Cl.A.OA  Bk.S\-'o,A-VA  i 

TRINITY  COLLEGE  | 
LIBRARY 


DURHAM,  NORTH  CAROLINA 


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OF 

TRINITY  GOLLEG 


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THE 


BIOGRAPHICAL 

HISTORY  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

FROM  ITS  ORIGIN  IN  GREECE  DOWN  TO 
THE  PRESENT  DAY. 

BY 

GEORGE  HENRY  LEWES. 


^ JYiftn  is  not  born  to  solve  the  mystery  of  Existence ; but  be  must  nevertheless  attempt  iL 
ia  order  that  he  may  learn  how  to  keep  within  the  limits  of  the  Knowable.” — Goethk. 

* For  I doubt  not  through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 

And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  by  the  process  of  the  suns.” 

Tennysson. 

(!. 


LIBRARY  EDITION, 

MUCH  ENI.AKGED  AND  THORODGnLY  REVISED. 


6^ 

cw* 

o 


! 0 


VOL.  IT. 

£ 9 


XEW  YOEK: 

D.  APPLETOIL  A^D  COMPANY 

1,  3,  AND  6 BOND  STREET. 


1890. 


, ■:  ►>' 


"VJ 

• V ,.V 


[O'/ 


PART  II. 

MODERN  PHILOSOPHY.- 


10  ^9  8- 


TRANSITION  PERIOD. 


FEOM  PEOCLUS  TO  BACON. 

§ I.  Scholasticism. 

Although  Modern  Philosophy,  rigorously  defined,  commences 
Tilth  Bacon  and  Descartes,  from  whom  a distinct  development  is 
traceable,  such  as  the  purpose  of  this  History  requires,  we  must 
not  pass  from  Proclus  to  Bacon  without  at  least  a rapid  glance 
ai  the  course  of  speculative  activity  during  the  intervening  twelve 
centuiies.  Mediaeval  Philosophy  has  been  much  decried  and 
much  exalted,  but  very  little  studied.  So  vast  a subject  demands 
a patience  and  erudition  few  can  bring  to  it.  Fortunately  for 
me,  whose  knowledge  of  Scholasticism  is  limited  to  a supei’ficial 
acquaintance  with  some  of  the  works  of  Aquinas,  Abelard,  and 
Averroes,  the  nature  of  this  History  excludes  any  detailed  exam- 
ination of  mediaeval  speculations.  Consulting  my  own  resources 
and  the  reader’s  interest,  I find  that  the  whole  career  of  philo- 
sophic inquiry,  from  Proclus  to  Bacon,  can  be  presented  in  three 
typical  figures : namely,  Abelard,  as  representing  Scholasticism  ; 
Algazzali,  as  representing  Arabian  philosophy ; and  Giordanc 
Bruno,  as  representing  the  philosophic  struggle  which  overthrew 
the  authority  of  Aristotle  and  the  Church.  These  three  thinkers 
I have  studied  more  or  less  in  their  own  writings  ; and  the 
reader  will  understand,  therefore,  that  the  following  sketch  is 
wholly  drawn  from  second-hand  knowledge  in  all  but  these  three 
instances. 

With  the  Alexandrians,  Philosophy,  as  we  have  seen,  became 
absorbed  in  Religion.  The  Alexandrians  were  succeeded  by  the 
Christian  Fathers,  who  of  course  made  Philosophy  the  handmaid 


34:4 


FROM  PEOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


to  Religion — ancilla  Theologies.  The  whole  philosophic  etFort 
was  to  mediate  between  the  dogmas  of  faith  and  the  demands  ot 
reason.  Scholasticism  derives  its  name  from  the  schools  opened 
by  Charlemagne  for  the  prosecution,  of  speculative  studies,  which 
were  only  prosecuted  in  those  days  by  the  clergy,  they  alone 
having  leisure  or  inclination  for  such  work.  Thus  did  the  Mon- 
asteries form  the  cradle  of  Modern  Philosophy.*  1 

As  far  as  we  can  separate  the  philosophic  from  the  theological 
element,  it  displays  itself  in  three  capital  manifestations : 1st,  The 
debate  on  Universals ; 2d,  The  influence  of  the  Arabians,  espe- 
cially in  their  introduction  of  the  works  of  Aristotle ; and  3d, 
The  rebellion  against  Aristotle  and  all  other  authority  in  the 
proclamation  of  the  independence  of  Reason. 

There  was  no  separation  at  all  until  the  ninth  century,  when, 
in  the  person  of  Scotus  Erigena,  Philosophy  timidly  claimed  its 
privilege.  And  even  Scotus  Erigena  said,  “ There  are  not  two 
studies,  one  of  philosophy  and  one  of  religion ; true  philosophy 
is  true  religion,  and  true  religion  is  true  philosophy.”  In  the 
eleventh  century  appeared  Roscellinus,  who,  in  advocating  the 
philosophic  doctrine  of  Nominalism,  not  only  separated  Philos- 
ophy from  Religion,  but  placed  it  in  direct  antagonism  with  the 
fundamental  dogma  of  the  Trinity.  To  understand  this  we  must 
remember  that  in  those  days  there  was  a profound  and  even 
servile  submission  to  the  double  authority  of  the  Church  and  the 
Greek  Philosophers, — a submission  necessarily  resulting  from  the 
teaching  of  the  Fathers,  who  always  combined  the  two.  The 
works  of  Greek  Philosophers  were,  however,  but  scantily  known 
through  Latin  translations  and  commentaries  ; but  this  perhaps 
increased  the  eagerness  to  know  them  ; and  thus  all  doctrine  be- 


* Victor  Cousin,  Hist,  de  la  Phil.  ii.  9eme  Lc(;on.  The  various  historians 
of  Philosophy,  especially  Eitter  and  Tennemann,  should  be  consulted ; but 
the  clearest  and  most  readable  work  known  to  me  is  M.  Kousselot’s  Etudes 
sur  la  Phihsophie  dans  le  Moyen  Age,  8 vols.  8vo.  Paris,  1840.  M.  Remusat’s 
Abelard,  2 vols.  Paris,  1845,  by  its  analysis  of  Abelard  s works,  gives  also  a 
very  good  idea  of  Scholastic  speculation. 


SCHOLASTICISM. 


3i5 


came,  in  fact,  erudition.  To  interpret  Aristotle  was  to  establish 
philosophy.  It  is  a common  error  to  suppose  that  Aristotle  at 
once  and  always  reigned  despotically  over  the  philosophy  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  As  M.  Rousselot*  remarks,  there  were  two  dis- 
tinct characters  in  Aristotle  then  accepted ; there  was  first  the 
Logician,  whose  word  was  law, — magister  dixit, — whose  Organon 
was  the  Bible  of  the  schools, — whose  authority  no  one  thought 
of  questioning ; and  there  was  also  the  Metaphysician,  who,  so 
far  from  receiving  the  worship  offered  to  the  Logician,  was  per- 
secuted, excommunicated,  and  burned,  because  his  metaphysical 
doctrine  was  thought  to  contain  the  fatal  heresy  of  the  unity  of 
substance.f  It  was  not  until  after  Abelard,  and  owing  to  the 
Arabian  influence,  that  Aristotle  passed — to  use  M.  Remusat’s 
happy  phrase — from  the  consulship  to  the  dictatorship  of  Phi- 
losophy.J 

Plato  taught  Realism.  He  maintained  the  existence  of  Ab- 
stract Ideas,  as  Objects  or  Substances.  Aristotle,  on  the  con- 
trary, taught  that  Abstract  Ideas  were  nothing  but  abstractions ; 
general  names,  not  general  things.  Early  Scholasticism  adopted 
Realism  ; and  when  Roscellinus  by  subtle  argumentation  proved 
that  genera  and  species  were  nothing  more  than  logical  construc- 
tions, general  terms,  flatus  vocis,  without  corresponding  essences, 
it  was  soon  evident  that  he  was  in  antagonism  with  the  dogma 
of  the  Trinity.  “That  Universal  which  you  call  Trinity  cannot 
exist ; and  as  the  relations  which  unite  these  three  divine  persons 
do  not  exist,  the  Trinity  cannot  exist.  There  is  either  one  God 
or  three ; if  there  is  but  one,  he  exists  in  a single  person ; it 
there  are  three,  there  are  three  beings  separate,  distinct.” 

The  consequence  of  such  heresy  may  be  foreseen.  Roscellinus 
was  summoned  before  the  Council  of  Soissons,  and  there  forced 


* Etudes  sur  la  Philos,  i.  173. 

t Jourdain,  in  his  erudite  work,  Eecherches  sur  Vage  et  V origins  des  Tra- 
ductions d'Aristote,  has  placed  this  condemnation  of  Aristotle  beyond  a 
doubt. 

t Ahelard,  i.  316. 


34G 


FKOM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


publicly  to  recant.  He  escaped  to  England,  and  perished  in 
exile ; but  the  seed  he  had  soAvn  fructified,  and  Nominalism  after- 
wards became  the  reigning  doctrine.  The  amount  of  verbal 
quibbling  and  idle  distinctions  employed  on  this  famous  question 
is  only  greater  than  that  employed  on  other  questions,  because  of 
its  greater  importance.  No  one  can  form  an  adequate  idea  of 
the  frivolity  and  wearisome  prolixity  of  these  Schoolmen  without 
opening  one  of  their  books ; and  even  after  having  done  so,  it 
will  remain  incomprehensible  how  sane  and  earnest  intellects 
could  have  contented  themselves  with  such  grinding  of  the  air 
in  metaphysic  mills,  unless  we  understand  the  error  which  mis- 
led them.  The  error  was  in  mistaking  logical  constructions  for 
truths,  believing  ideas  to  be  the  correlates  of  things,  so  that 
whatever  was  discernible  in  the  mental  combination  was  neces- 
sarily true  of  external  facts.  The  Schoolmen  analyzed  the  ele- 
ments of  speech  and  thought  with  the  pertinacious  eagerness  now 
employed  by  chemists  in  analyzing  the  elements  of  bodies.  This 
error  is  the  fundamental  error,  principium  et  fans,  of  all  meta- 
physical speculation ; and  with  an  ill  grace  do  metaphysicians 
ridicule  the  follies  of  the  Schoolmen,  who  only  carried  to  excess 
the  metaphysical  Method  of  unverified  Deduction.  It  may  be 
true  that  Scholastic  philosojjhy  was  for  the  most  part  a dispute 
about  words,  but  it  is  not  for  metaphysicians  to  cast  the  re- 
proach ; and  the  defenders  of  Scholasticism  have  an  easy  task 
when  they  undertake  to  show  that  beneath  these  verbal  disputes 
lay  the  deepest  problems  of  Ontology. 

§ II.  Life  of  Abexarb. 

The  name  of  Abelard  has  been  immortalized  by  association 
with  that  of  a noble  woman.  It  is  because  Heloise  loved  him, 
that  posterity  feels  interested  in  him.  M.  Michelet  indeed  thinks 
that  to  Abelard  she  owes  her  fame:  “without  his  misfortunes 
she  would  have  remained  obscure,  unheard  of;”  and  in  one  sense 
this  is  true ; but  true  it  also  is  that,  without  her  love,  Abelaid 
would  have  long  ago  ceased  to  inspire  any  interest ; for  his  wa.« 


LIFE  OF  ABELAKD. 


347 


essentially  a shallow,  selfish  nature.  His  popularity  was  rapid, 
loud,  and  scandalous.  He  was  fitted  for  it,  lived  for  it.  But 
many  a greater  name  has  faded  from  the  memories  of  men  ; 
many  a once  noisy  reputation  fails  to  awaken  a single  echo  in 
posterity.  Apart  from  the  consecration  of  passion  and  misfor- 
tune, there  is  little  in  his  life  to  excite  our  sympathy.  Viewed 
in  connection  with  Heloise  he  must  always  interest  us ; viewed 
away  from  her,  he  presents  the  figure  of  a quick,  vivacious,  un- 
scrupulous, intensely  vain  Frenchman.  But,  in  several  respects, 
he  represents  the  philosophic  struggle  of  the  twelfth  century  ; and 
in  this  light  we  may  consider  him. 

He  was  horn  in  Brittany  in  1079,  of  a noble  family,  named 
Berenger.  The  name  of  Abelard  came  to  him  later.  His  mas- 
ter laughingly  noticed  his  superficial  manner  of  passing  over 
some  studies,  filled  as  he  was  with  others,  and  said,  “ When  a 
dog  is  well  filled,  he  can  do  no  more  than  lick  the  bacon.”  The 
word  to  lick,  in  the  corrupt  Latin  of  that  day,  was  bajare,  and 
Bajolardus  became  the  cognomen  of  this  “ bacon-licking  student” 
among  his  comrades,  which  he  converted  into  Habelardus,  “ se 
vantant  ainsi  de  posseder  ce  qu’on  I’accusait  de  ne  pouvoir  pren- 
dre.”* In  the  ancient  writers  the  name  is  variously  spelled,  as 
Abailardus,  Abaielardus,  Abaulardus,  Abbajalarius,  Baalaurdus, 
Belardus,  and  in  French  as  Abeillard,  Abayelard,  Abalard,  Abau- 
lard,  Abaalary,  Allebart,  Abulard,  Beillard,  Baillard,  Balard,  and 
even  Esbaillart ; which  variations  seem  to  imply  that  the  old 
French  writers  were  as  accurate  in  their  gelling  of  proper  names 
as  their  descendants  are  in  their  use  of  English  and  German 
names. 

Abelard’s  father  joined  to  his  knightly  accomplishments  a taste 
for  literature,  as  literature  was  then  understood ; and  this  taste 


* Ahelari,  par  M.  Charles  de  Eemusat,  Paris  1845,  p.  13.  This  valuable 
monograph  contains  the  fullest  biography  of  Abelard  and  the  best  analysis 
of  his  works  yet  published.  Indeed,  before  M.  Cousin  published  the  works 
of  Abelard,  in  1836,  every  account  of  the  philosophy  of  this  thinker  was  ae 
cessarily  meagre  and  erroneous. 


348 


■ FROM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


became  so  dominant  in  the  mind  of  tbe  youth,  that  be  renounced 
the  career  of  arms  altogether  for  that  of  learning.  Dialectics 
was  the  great  science  of  that  day,  almost  rivalling  in  importance 
the  Theology  which  it  served  and  disturbed  by  turns.  It  was 
an  exercise  of  intellectual  ingenuity,  for  which  this  youth  mani- 
fested surprising  aptitude.  He  travelled  through  various  prov 
inces  disputing  with  all  comers,  like  a knight-errant  of  philoso 
phy,  urged  thereto  by  the  goading  desire  of  notoriety.  This 
love  of  notoriety  was  his  curse  through  life.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  he  came  to  Paris,  hoping  there  to  find  a fitting  opportu- 
nity of  display — an  arena  for  his  powers  as  a disputant.  He  at- 
tended the  lectures  of  William  de  Champeaux,  the  most  re- 
nowned master  of  disputation,  to  whom  students  flocked  from 
all  the  cities  of  Europe.  The  new  pupil  soon  excited  attention. 
The  beauty  of  his  person,  the  easy  grace  of  his  manner,  his  mar- 
vellous aptitude  for  learning,  and  still  more  marvellous  facility  of 
expression,  soon  distinguished  him  from  the  rest.  The  master 
grew  proud  of  his  pupil,  loved  him  through  his  pride,  and 
doubtless  looked  on  him  as  a successor.  But  it  soon  became 
evident  that  the  pupil,  so  quick  at  learning,  did  not  sit  there 
merely  to  learn ; he  was  waiting  for  some  good  opportunity  of 
display,  waiting  to  attack  his  venerable  master,  whose  secret 
strength  and  weakness  he  had  discovered.  The  opportunity 
came ; he  rose  up,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  the  students  provoked 
William  de  Champeaux  to  discussion,  harassed,  and  finally  van- 
quished him.  Rage  and  astonishment  agitated  the  students 
rage  and  terror  the  master.  The  students  were  indignant  be- 
cause they  clearly  saw  Abelard’s  motive. 

Abelard  dates  the  origin  of  all  his  woes  from  this  occasion, 
when  he  created  enmities  which  pursued  him  through  life ; and, 
with  a sophistication  common  to  such  natures,  he  attributes  the 
enmities  to  envy  at  his  ability,  instead  of  to  the  real  causes, 
namely,  his  inordinate  vanity  and  selfishness.  For  a tim.e,  indeed, 
the  rupture  with  his  master  seemed  successful.  Although  only 
two-and-twenty  years  of  age,  he' established  a school  of  Philos 


LIFE  OF  ABELAED. 


349 


ophy  at  Melun,  whicli  became  numerously  attended,  and  spread 
his  name  far  and  wide.  Emboldened  by  success,  be  removed 
his  school  still  nearer  to  Paris — to  Corbeil — in  order,  as  he 
frankly  tells  us,  that  he  might  be  more  importunate  to  his  old 
master.  But  his  rival  was  still  powerful,  aged  in  science  and 
respect.  Intense  application  was  necessary,  and  in  the  struggle 
Abelard’s  overtasked  energies  gave  way.  He  was  commanded 
by  the  physicians  to  shut  up  his  school,  and  retire  into  the  coun- 
try for  repose  and  fresh  air. 

In  two  years  he  returned  to  Paris,  and  saw  with  delight  that 
his  reputation  had  not  been  weakened  by  absence,  but  that  on  the 
contrary  his  scholars  were  more  eager  than  ever.  His  old  an- 
tagonist, William  de-Champeaux,  had  renounced  the  world,  and 
retired  to  a cloister,  where  he  opened  the  school  of  Saint  Victor, 
afterwards  so  celebrated.  His  great  reputation,  although  suffer- 
ing from  Abelard’s  attacks,  drew  crowds.  One  day,  when  the 
audience  was  most  numerous,  he  was  startled  by  the  appearance 
of  Abelard  among  the  students,  come,  as  he  said,  to  learn  rhet- 
oric. William  was  troubled,  but  continued  his  lecture.  Abe- 
lard was  silent  until  the  question  of  “Universals”  was  brought 
forward,  and  then  suddenly  changing  from  a disciple  to  an  antag- 
onist, he  harassed  the  old  man  with  such  rapidity  and  unexpect- 
edness of  assault,  that  William  confessed  himself  defeated,  and 
retracted  his  opinion.  That  retractation  was  the  death  of  his  in- 
fluence. His  audience  rapidly  dwindled.  No  one  would  listen 
to  the  minor  points  of  Dialectics  from  one  who  confessed  himself 
beaten  on  the  cardinal  point  of  all.  The  disciples  passed  over 
to  the  victor.  When  the  combat  is  fierce  between  two  lordly 
stags,  the  hinds  stand  quietly  by,  watching  the  issue  of  the  con- 
test, and  if  their  former  lord  and  master,  once  followed  and  re- 
spected, is  worsted,  they  all  without  hesitation  pass  over  to  the 
conquei'or,  and  henceforth  follow  him.  Abelard’s  school  became 
acknowledged  as  pre-eminent;  and,  as  if  to  give  his  triumph 
greater  emphasis,  the  professor  to  whom  William  de  Champeaux 
had  resigned  his  chair,  was  either  so  intimidated  by  Abelard’s 
25 


350 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON, 


audacity,  or  so  subjugated  by  bis  ability,  that  he  offered  his  chaii 
to  Abekrd,  and  ranged  himself  among  the  disciples. 

Abelard  was  not  content  even  with  this  victory.  Although 
undisputed  master  in  Dialectics,  he  could  not  hear  of  any  other 
teacher  without  envy.  A certain  Anselm  taught  Theology  at 
Laon  with  immense  success;  and  this  was  enough  to  trouble 
Abelard’s  repose;  accordingly  to  Laon  he  went,  ridiculed  An- 
selm’s style,  laughed  at  the  puerile  admiration  of  the  scholars, 
and  offered  to  surpass  the  master  in  the  explanation  of  Scripture. 
The  scholars  first  laughed,  then  listened,  and  admired.  Abelard 
departed,  having  excited  anarchy  in  the  school,  and  anguish  in 
the  heart  of  the  old  man. 

His  career,  at  this  period,  was  brilliant.  His  reputation  had 
risen  above  that  of  every  living  man.  His  eloquence  and  sub- 
tlety charmed  hundreds  of  serious  students,  who  thronged  be- 
neath the  shadows  of  the  Cathedral  in  ceaseless  disputation, 
thinking  more  of  success  in  dispute  than  of  the  truths  involved. 
M.  Guizot  estimates  these  students  at  not  less  than  five  thousand 
— of  course  not  all  at  the  same  time.  Amidst  these  crowds, 
Abelard  might  be  seen  moving  with  imposing  haughtiness  of 
carriage,  not  without  the  careless  indolence  which  success  had 
given  ; handsome,  manly,  gallant-looking,  the  object  of  incessant 
admiration.  His  songs  were  sung  in  the  streets,  his  arguments 
were  repeated  in  cloisters.  The  multitude  reverentially  made 
way  for  him,  as  he  passed ; and  from  behind  their  window-cur- 
tains peeped  the  curious  eyes  of  women.  His  name  was  carried 
to  every  city  in  Europe.  The  Pope  sent  hearers  to  him.  He 
reigned,  and  he  reigned  alone.* 

It  was  at  this  period  that  the  charms  and  helpless  position  of 
Heloise  attracted  his  vanity  and  selfishness.  He  resolved  to  se- 
duce her ; resolved  it,  as  he  confesses,  after  mature  deliberation. 
He  thought  she  would  be  an  easy  victim  ; and  he  who  had  lived 


* “ Cum  jam  me  solum  in  munJo  superesse  philosopham  aestimarem. 
i.  p.  9. 


LIFE  OF  ABELAED. 


351 


■ji  abhorrence  of  libertinage — seortorum  immunditiam  semper  aJb- 
horreham — felt  that  he  had  now  attained  such  a position  that  he 
might  indulge  himself  with  impunity.  We  are  not  here  attrib- 
uting hypothetic  scoundrelism  to  Abelard ; we  are  but  repeat- 
ing his  own  statements.  “I  thought,  too,”  he  adds,  “that  I 
should  the  more  easily  gain  the  girl’s  consent,  knowing  as  I did 
to  how  great  a degree  she  both  possessed  learning  and  loved  it.” 
He  tells  us  how  he  “ sought  an  opportunity  of  bringing  her  into 
familiar  and  daily  intercourse  with  me,  and  so  drawing  her  the 
more  easily  to  consent  to  my  wishes.  With  this  view  I made  a 
proposal  to  her  uncle,  through  certain  of  his  friends,  that  he 
should  receive  me  as  an  inmate  of  his  house,  which  was  very  near 
to  my  school,  on  whatever  terms  of  remuneration  he  chose ; 
alleging  as  my  reason  that  I found  the  care  of  a household  an 
impediment  to  study,  and  its  expense  too  burdensome.”  The 
uncle,  Fulbert,  was  prompted  by  avarice,  and  the  prospect  of 
gaining  instruction  for  his  niece,  to  consent.  He  committed  her 
entirely  to  Abelard’s  charge,  “in  order  that  whenever  I should 
be  at  leisure  from  the  school,  whether  by  day  or  by  night,  I 
might  take  the  trouble  of  instructing  her ; and  should  I find  her 
negligent,  use  forcible  compulsion.  Hereupon  I wondered  at 
the  man’s  excessive  simplicity,  with  no  less  amazement  than  if  I 
had  beheld  him  intrust  a lamb  to  the  care  of  a famishing  wolf ; 
for  in  thus  placing  the  girl  in  my  hands  for  me  not  only  to  teach, 
but  to  use  forcible  coercion,  what  did  he  do  but  give  full  liberty 
to  my  desires,  and  offer  the  opportunity,  even  had  it  not  been 
sought,  seeing  that,  should  enticement  fail,  I might  use  threats 
and  stripes  in  order  to  subdue  her  ?”* 

The  crude  brutality  of  this  confession  would  induce  us  to 
suppose  it  was  a specimen  of  that  strange  illusion  which  often 
makes  refiective  and  analytic  minds  believe  that  their  enthusiasms 
and  passions  were  calculations,  had  we  not  sufficient  evidence, 
throughout  Abelard’s  life,  of  his  intense  selfishness  and  voracious 


See  i. 


352 


FROM  PROCLtrS  TO  BACON. 


vanity.  Whatever  the  motive,  the  incident  is  curious  ; history 
has  no  other  such  example  of  passionate  devotion  filling  the  mind 
of  a woman  for  a dialectician.  It  was  dialectics  he  taught  her  ; 
since  he  could  teach  her  nothing  else.  She  was  a much  better 
scholar  than  he ; in  many  respects  better  read.  She  was  perfect 
mistress  of  Latin,  and  knew  enough  Greek  and  Hebrew  to  form 
the  basis  of  her  future  proficiency.  He  knew  nothing  of  Greek 
or  Hebrew,  although  all  his  biographers,  except  M.  Remusat,  as- 
sume that  he  knew  them  both  ; M.  Michelet,  even  asserting  that 
he  was  the  only  man  who  did  then  know  them.*  In  the  study 
of  arid  dialectics,  then,  must  we  imagine  Abelard  and  Heloise 
thrown  together ; and,  in  the  dally  communion  of  their  minds, 
passion  ripened,  steeped  in  that  vague,  dream-like,  but  intense 
delight,  produced  by  the  contact  of  great  intelligences ; and  thus, 
as  the  Spanish  translator  of  her  letters  says,  “ buscando  siempre 
con  pretexto  del  estudio  los  parages  mas  retirados” — they  sought 
in  the  still  air  and  countenance  of  delightful  studies  a solitude 
more  exquisite  than  any  society.  “ The  books  were  open  before 
us,”  says  Abelard,  “ but  we  talked  more  of  love  than  philosophy, 
and  kisses  were  more  frequent  than  sentences.”f 

In  spite  of  the  prudential  necessity  for  keeping  this  intrigue 
secret,  Abelard’s  truly  French  vanity  overcame  his  prudence. 
He  had  written  love-songs  to  Heloise ; and  with  the  egotism  ot 
a bad  poet  and  indelicate  lover,  he  was  anxious  for  these  songs 
to  be  read  by  other  eyes  besides  those  for  whom  they  were  com- 
posed ; anxious  that  other  men  should  know  his  conquest.  His 

* He  knew  a few  terms  current  in  the  theological  literature  of  the  day,  but 
had  he  known  more,  his  ostentatious  vanity  would  have  exhibited  the  knowl- 
edge on  all  occasions.  He  expressly  declares,  moreover,  that  he  was  forced 
to  read  Greek  authors  in  Latin  versions.  See  Cousin’s  edition  of  the  (Euvres 
Inedites,  p.  43  ; also  Dialectica,  p.  200,  where  the  non-existence  of  Latin  ver- 
sions is  given  as  the  reason  of  his  ignorance  of  what  Aristotle  says  in  his 
Physics  and  Metaphysics. 

t Epist.  i.  p.  11.  He  adds,  with  his  usual  crudity:  “ Et  saepius  ad  sinus 
quam  ad  libros  reducebantur  manus.”  Madame  Guizot  excellently  hidioates 
the  distinction  between  his  sensual  descriptions  and  the  chaster,  chough 
more  passionate,  language  of  Heloise ; “ die  rappelk,  mais  ne  detad  < p/vni 


LIFE  OF  ABELAKD. 


353 


iongs  were  soon  bandied  about  the  streets.  All  Paris  was  in 
the  secret  of  his  intrigue.  That  which  a delicate  lover,  out  of 
delicacy,  and  a sensible  lover,  out  of  prudence,  would  have  hid- 
den from  the  world,  this  coxcomb  suffered  to  be  profaned  by 
being  bawled  from  idle  and  indifferent  mouths.* 

At  length  even  Fulbert  became  aware  of  what  was  passing 
under  his  roof.  A separation  took  place  ; but  the  lovers  contin- 
ued to  meet  in  secret.  Heloise  soon  found  herself  pregnant,  and 
Abelard  arranged  for  her  an  escape  to  Brittany,  where  she  resided 
with  his  sister,  and  gave  birth  to  a son.  When  Fulbert  heard  of 
her  flight,  he  was  franuo  with  rage.  Abelard  came  cringing  to 
him,  imploring  pardon,  recalling  to  him  how  the  greatest  men 
had  been  cast  down  by  women,  accused  himself  of  treachery,  and 
offered  the  reparation  of  marriage  provided  it  were  kept  secret ; 
because  his  marriage,  if  made  known,  would  be  an  obstacle  to 
hir  rising  in  the  Church,  and  the  mitre  already  glimmered  before 
his  ambitious  eyes.  Fulbert  consented.  But  Heloise,  with 
womanly  self-abnegation,  would  not  consent.  She  would  not 
rob  the  world  of  its  greatest  luminary.  “ I should  hate  this  mar- 
riage,” she  exclaimed,  “because  it  would  be  an  opprobrium  and 
a calamity.”  She  recalled  to  Abelard  various  passages  in  Scrip- 
ture and  ancient  writers,  in  which  wives  are  accursed,  pointing 
out  to  him  how  impossible  it  would  be  for  him  to  consecrate 
himself  to  philosophy  unless  he  were  free  ; how  could  he  study 
amid  the  noises  of  children  and  domestic  troubles  of  a house- 
hold ? how  much  more  honorable  it  would  be  for  her  to  sacrifice 
herself  to  him ! She  would  be  his  concubine.  The  more  she 
humiliated  herself  for  him,  the  greater  would  be  her  claims  upon 
his  love ; and  thus  she  would  be  no  obstacle  to  his  advancement, 
no  impediment  to  the  free  development  of  his  genius. 

* That  this  vanity  and  indelicacy  are  eminently  French,  though  unhappily 
not  exclusively  French,  will  be  admitted  by  all  who  are  conversant  with  the 
dfe  and  literature  of  that  remarkable  people.  It  had  not  escaped  the  pier- 
cing gaze  and  healthy  instincts  of  Moliere,  who  has  an  admirable  passage  on 
this  national  peculiarity;  see  Arnolphe’s  monologue,  act.  iii.  scene  iiL  of 
VEcole  des  Femmes. 


354 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


“I  call  God  to  witness,”  she  wrote  many  years  afterwards, 
“ that  if  Augustus,  the  emperor  of  the  world,  had  deemed  me 
worthy  of  his  hand,  and  would  have  given  me  the  universe  for  a 
throne,  the  name  of  your  concubine  would  have  been  more  glori- 
ous to  me  than  that  of  his  empress ; carius  mihi  et  dignias  vide- 
retur  tua  did  meretrix  quam  illius  imperatrix'' 

Gladly  would  Abelard  have  profited  by  this  sublime  passion  ; 
but  he  was  a coward,  and  his  heart  trembled  before  Fulbert.  He 
therefore  endeavored  to  answer  her  arguments;  and  she,  finding 
that  his  resolution  was  fixed — a resolution  which  he  very  char- 
acteristically calls  a bit  of  stupidity,  meam  stultitiam — burst  into 
tears,  and  consented  to  the  marriage,  which  was  performed  with 
all  secrecy.  Fulbert  and  his  servants,  however,  in  violation  of 
their  oath,  divulged  the  secret.  Whereupon  Heloise  boldly  denied 
that  she  was  married.  The  scandal  became  great;  but  she  per- 
sisted in  her  denials,  and  Fulbert  drove  her  from  the  house  with 
reproaches.  Abelard  removed  her  to  the  nunnery  of  Argenteuib 
where  she  assumed  the  monastic  dress,  though  without  taking 
the  veil.  Abelard  furtively  visited  her.*  Meanwhile  Fulbert’s 
suspicions  were  roused,  lest  this  seclusion  in  the  nunnery  should 
be  but  the  first  step  to  her  taking  the  veil,  and  so  ridding  Abe- 
lard of  all  impediment.  Those  were  violent  and  brutal  times,  but 
the  vengeance  of  Fulbert  startled  even  the  Paris  of  those  days 
with  horror.  With  his  friends  and  accomplices,  he  surprised 
Abelard  sleeping,  and  there  inflicted  that  atrocious  mutilation, 
which  Origen  in  a moment  of  religious  frenzy  inflicted  on  him- 
self. 

In  shame  and  anguish  Abelard  sought  the  refuge  of  a cloister. 
He  became  a monk.  But  the  intense  selfishness  of  the  man 
would  not  permit  him  to  renounce  the  world  without  also  forcing 
Heloise  to  renounce  it.  Obedient  to  his  commands,  she  took  the 


* Ho  adds  “ Nosti  . . . quid  ibi  tecum  mea  libidinis  egerit  intemperantia 
in  quadam  etiam  parte  ipsius  refectorii.  Nosti  id  impudentissime  tune  ac- 
tum esse  in  tarn  reverendo  loco  et  summse  Virgini  conseorato.” — Epist.  v 

».  69. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  ABELAED. 


355 


veil ; thus  once  again  sacrificing  herself  to  him  whom  she  had 
accepted  as  a husband  with  unselfish  regret,  and  whom  she  aban- 
doned in  trembling,  to  devote  herself  henceforth  without  hope, 
without  faith,  without  love,  to  her  divine  husband. 

The  gates  of  the  convent  closed  forever  on  that  noble  woman 
whose  story  continues  one  of  pure  heroism  to  the  last;  but  we 
cannot  pause  to  narrate  it  here.  With  her  disappearance,  the 
great  interest  in  Abelard  disappears ; we  shall  not  therefore  de- 
tail the  various  episodes  of  his  subsequent  careei’,  taken  up  for 
the  most  part  with  quarrels — first  with  the  monks,  whose  dis- 
soluteness he  reproved,  next  with  theologians,  whose  hatred  he 
roused  by  the  “ heresy”  of  reasoning.  He  was  condemned  pub- 
licly to  retract ; he  was  persecuted  as  a heretic ; he  had  ventured 
to  introduce  Rationalism, — or  the  explanation  of  the  dogmas  of 
Faith  by  Reason, — and  he  suffered,  as  men  always  suffer  for 
novelties  of  doctrine.  He  founded  the  convent  of  Paraclete,  of 
which  Heloise  was  the  first  abbess,  and  on  the  21st  of  April,  1142, 
he  expired,  aged  sixty-three.  “ II  vecut  dans  I’angoisse  et  mourut 
dans  rhumiliation,”  says  M.  de  Remusat,  “ mais  il  eut  de  la  gloire 
et  il  fut  aime.” 

§ III.  Philosophy  of  Abelard. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  fill  a volume  with  the  exposition  of 
Abelard’s  philosophy ; indeed,  in  M.  de  Remusat’s  work  a volume 
and  a quarter  are  devoted  to  the  subject  w’ithout  exhausting  it. 
But  the  nature  of  this  History,  and  the  necessities  of  space, 
equally  force  us  to  be  very  brief.  Abelard’s  contributions  to  the 
development  of  speculation  may  all  be  reduced  to  two  points ; 
the  question  of  Universals,  and  the  systematic  introduction  of 
Reason  as  an  independent  element  in  theology,  capable  not  only 
of  explaining  dogmas,  but  of  giving  dogmas  of  its  own. 

“ The  nature  of  genera  and  species  has  formed  perhaps  the 
longest  and  most  animated,  and  certainly  the  most  abstract  con- 
troversy which  has  ever  agitated  the  human  mind,”  says  M.  de 
Remusat,  who  adds,  “ that  it  is  also  one  which  now  seems  the 


56 


FROM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


least  likely  to  have  interested  men  so  deeply.”  The  same  will, 
probably,  one  day  be  said  of  the  question  of  Immaterialism  and 
Materialism,  a logomachy  as  great,  as  animated,  and  as  remote 
from  all  practical  results,  as  that  of  Universals,  but  which,  from 
its  supposed  relation  to  religious  truths,  has  been  made  the  great 
controversy  of  the  schools.  In  our  day  there  are  few  speculators 
who  do  not  believe  that  important  religious  principles  are  indis- 
solubly connected  witli.  the  doctrine  of  an  immaterial  principle 
superadded  to,  and  in  nowise  identical  with,  the  brain ; and  this 
in  spite  of  the  indisputable  fact  that  the  early  Christian  Fathers 
maintained  the  materiality  not  only  of  the  soul,  birt  of  God  him- 
self in  spite  also  of  the  many  pious  moderns  of  unimpeachable 
orthodoxy  who  held,  and  hold,  the  doctrines  stigmatized  as  Ma- 
terialism, and  who  think  with  Occam : “ Experimur  enim  quod 
iutelligimus  et  volumus  et  nolumus,  et  similes  actus  in  nobis 
habemus  ; sed  quod  ilia  sint  e formA  immateriali  et  incorrujpti- 
bili  non  experimur,  et  omnis  ratio  ad  hujus  probationem  assumpta 
assumit  aliquod  dubium.”f 

Although,  therefore,  the  intense  feeling  stirred  by  the  dispute 
respecting  Universals  ajrpears  incomprehensible  to  us,  who  con- 
sider the  dispute  to  have  been  a log'omachy,  for  the  most  part; 
we  may  render  intelligible  to  ourselves  how  such  a dispute  came 
to  be  so  important,  by  considering  the  importance  now  attached 
to  the  dispute  respecting  an  “ immaterial  principle.”  Idle  or  im- 
portant, it  was  the  dispute  of  the  Middle  Ages;  and  M.  Cousin 
is  guilty  of  no  exaggeration  in  saying  “the  whole  Scholastic 
philosophy  issued  out  of  a phrase  in  Porphyry  as  interpreted  by 
Boethius.”  Here  is  the  passage  : “ Intentio  Porphyrii  est  in  hoc 
opere  facilem  intellectum  ad  praedicamenta  prseparare  tractando 


Tertullian  wrote  a work  expressly  to  combat  the  immaterialism  of  Plato 
and  Aristotle.  One  sentence  will  suffice  to  bear  out  what  is  said  above  re- 
specting God  : “ Quis  autem  negabit  Beum  esse  corpus,  etsi  Deus  spiritusP' 
M.  Guizot,  in  his  legons  sur  VHist.  de  la  Civilisation  en  France,  and  M.  Eous- 
seiot’s  Etudes  sur  la  PMlos.  dans  le  Moyen  Age,  will  furnish  the  reader  with 
other  examples. 

+ We  borrow  the  passage  from  Eousselot’s  Etudes,  iii.  256. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  ABELAED. 


357 


de  quiuque  rebus  vel  vocibus,  genere  scilicet,  specie,  diflPerentia, 
proprio  et  accidenti ; quorum  cognitio  valet  ad  praedicamentorum 
cognitiouem.”*  In  the  phrase  reius  vel  vocibus  he  was  under- 
stood to  signify  that  things  and  words  were  mutually  convertible; 
to  discourse  of  one  or  of  the  other  was  indifferent ; and  the  ques- 
tion turned  upon  this  point : Does  the  word  Genus,  or  the  word 
Species,  represent  an  actual  something,  existing  externally, — or 
is  it  a mere  wame  which  designates  a certain  collection  of  indi- 
viduals ? The  former  opinion  was  held  until  Roscellinus  attacked 
it,  and  brought  forward  the  heresy  of  Nominalism  with  such 
force  of  argument  that,  although  the  heresy  was  condemned,  the 
logic  forced  its  way;  and  Abelard,  when  he  attacked  the  doctrine 
of  Realism,  taught  by  William  de  Champeaux,  borrowed  so  much 
of  the  Nominalist  argument  that  until  quite  recently  he  has  been 
called  a Nominalist  himself.  That  he  was  not  a pure  Nominalist 
is  now  clear ; and  M.  Rousselot  has  even  made  out  an  ingenious 
case  for  him  as  a Realist.  But,  in  truth,  he  was  entirely  neither; 
he  was  something  of  both ; he  was  a Conceptualist.  The  pe- 
culiarity of  his  doctrine  consists  in  the  distinction  of  Matter  and 
Form  applied  to  genus  and  .species.  “Every  individual,”  he  says 
in  a very  explicit  passage  of  the  treatise  De  Generihus  et  Specie- 
bus,  printed  by  M.  Cousin,  “is  composed  of  matter  and  form,  i.e. 
Socrates  from  the  matter  of  Man,  and  the  form  of  Socratity ; so 
Plato  is  of  the  same  matter,  namely  that  of  man,  but  of  different 
form,  namely  that  of  Platonity ; and  so  of  all  other  individual 
men.  And  just  as  the  Socratity  which  formally  constitutes  Soc- 
rates is  nowhere  but  in  Socrates,  so  the  essence  of  man  which 
sustains  Socratity  in  Socrates,  is  nowhere  but  in  Socrates.  The 
same  of  all  other  individuals.  By  species  therefore  I mean,  not 
that  essence  of  man  which  alone  is  in  Socrates,  or  in  any  other 
individual,  but,  the  whole  collection  which  is  formed  of  all  the 


* “The  object  of  Porphyry  in  this  work  is  to  prepare  the  mind  for  the 
easy  understanding  of  the  Predicaments,  by  treating  of  the  five  things  or 
words,  namely,  genus,  species,  difference,  property,  and  accident ; tha 
knowledge  of  which  leads  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Predicaments.” 


358 


FKOM  PKOCLtrS  TO  BACON. 


individuals  of  the  same  nature.  This  whole  collection,  although 
esseutially  multiple,  by  the  Authorities  is  named  one  Species,  one 
Universal,  one  Nature ; just  as  a nation,  although  composed  of 
many  persons,  is  called  one.  Thus  each  particular  essence  of  the 
collection  called  Humanity  is  composed  of  matter  and  form, 
namely  the  animal  is  matter,  the  form  is  however  not  one,  but 
many,  i.  e.  rationality,  morality,  bipedality,  and  all  the  other  sub- 
stantial attributes.  And  that  which  is  said  of  man,  namely  that 
the  part  of  man  which  sustains  Socratity  is  not  essentially  the 
part  which  sustains  Platonity,  is  true  also  of  the  Animal.*  For 
the  Animal  which  in  me  is  the  form  of  Humanity,  cannot  essen- 
tially be  elsewhere ; but  there  is  in  it  something  not  different 
from  the  separate  elements  of  individual  animals.  Hence,  I call 
Genus  the  multitude  of  animal  essences  which  sustain  the  indi- 
vidual species  of  Animal : the  multitude  diversified  by  that  which 
forms  Species.  For  this  latter  is  only  composed  by  a collection 
of  essences  which  sustain  individual  forms ; Genus,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  composed  by  a collection  of  the  substantial  differences 
of  different  Species.  . . . The  particular  essence  which  forms  the 
Genus  Animal,  results  from  a certain  matter,  essence  of  body, 
and  substantial  forms,  animation  and  sensibility,  which  can  only 
exist  essentially  there,  although  they  take  indifferently  the  forms 
of  all  species  of  body.  This  union  of  essences  produces  the  uni- 
versal named  Animal  Nature.”f 

This  passage  will  give  the  reader  a taste  of  Abelard’s  quality 
when  he  is  least  tiresome  from  it  we  see  clearly  enough  the  kind 
of  reality  which  he  attributed  to  general  terms,  in  opposition  to 
the  Nominalists,  who  taught  that  terms  were  only  terms;  ho 
said  they  were  terms  which  expressed  conceptions^  and  these  con- 


* We  must  subjoin  the  original : “ Et  sicut  de  homine  dictum  est,  scilicet 
quod  illud  hominis  quod  sustinet  Socratitatem,  illud  essentialiter  non  sus- 
tinet  Platonitatern,  ita  de  animali.  Nam  illud  animal  quod  formam  humani- 
tatis  quos  in  me  est,  sustinet,  illud  essentialiter  alibi  non  est,  sed  illi  non 
diffcrens  est  et  singulis  materiis  singulorum  individuorum  animalis.” 
t De  G-emribus  et  Speciebus,  p.  524. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  ABELAHD. 


359 


ceptions  were  based  on  realities : as  when  a multitude  is  con- 
ceived under  the  form  of  unity,  linking  together  all  the  actual 
resemblances  existing  between  the  individuals.  This  looks  so 
very  like  Realism,  that  M.  Rousselot  may  be  pardoned  for  having 
argued  at  great  length  the  paradoxical  thesis  of  Abelard’s  being 
a Realist ; but  a closer  examination  of  the  treatise  from  which 
we  have  just  cited  a long  passage,  proves  that  Abelard  did  not 
deceive  himself  in  maintaining  the  Realist  doctrine  to  be  errone- 
ous from  his  point  of  view.  He  maintained  that  genus  and 
species  were  not  general  essences  existing  essentially  and  inte- 
grally in  the  individuals,  whose  identity  admitted  of  no  other 
diversity  than  that  of  individual  modes,  or  accidents  ; which  was 
the  doctrine  of  Realism ; for,  if  this  doctrine  were  true,  the  sub- 
ject of  these  accidents,  the  substanse  of  these  modes  being  iden- 
tical, every  individual  would  possess  the  same  substance,  and 
humanity  would  only  be  one  man  ; thus  Socrates  being  at 
Athens,  humanity  would  be  at  Athens ; but  Plato  being  at 
Thebes,  humanity  must  then  either  not  be  at  Athens,  or  Plato 
must  not  be  humanity. 

Let  us  quit  here  the  question  of  Universals,  to  consider  the 
second  characteristic  of  Abelard’s  philosophy.  It  was  he  who 
gave  the  form  if  not  the  subject-matter  of  Scholasticism.  It  was 
he  who  brought  Logic  as  an  independent  power  into  the  arena 
of  theological  debate ; a heresy  which  drew  the  terrors  of  the 
Church  upon  him : Fonit  in  ccelum  os  suum  et  scrutatur  alia 
Dei,  said  St.  Bernard,  writing  to  the  Pope ; and  the  same  St. 
Bernard  let  fall  the  terrible  accusation  : “ transgreditur  fines  quos 
posuerunt  patres  nostri — he  has  gone  beyond  the  limits  set  by 
our  forefathers  !” — in  all  ages,  in  all  nations,  a mark  of  repro- 
bation. 

Supported,  as  he  thought,  by  thousands  of  partisans,  Abelard 
assumed  an  attitude  of  offence,  almost  of  disdain.  Unconscious 
of  his  real  danger,  he  published  the  substance  of  his  Lectures  in 
a work  called  Introductio  ad  Theologiam,  in  which  he  undertook 
to  demonstrate  by  Reason  the  dogmas  of  Faith,  and  promulgated 


360 


FKOM  PltOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


the  then  audacious  opinion,  that  all  dogmas  should  be  presented 
under  a rational  form  That  this  was  very  far  from  being  ac- 
ceptable, may  be  read  not  only  in  his  condemnation,  but  also  in 
the  passage  of  his  Dialectica,  where  he  says  that  his  rivals  de- 
clared it  not  permissible  in  a Christian  to  treat  even  of  Dialec- 
tics, because  Dialectics  was  not  only  incapable  of  instructing  any 
one  in  *he  faith,  but  disturbed  and  destroyed  faith  by  the  com- 
plication of  its  arguments.^ 

This  commencement,  feeble  though  it  may  have  been,  marks  a 
new  epoch  in  the  development  of  speculation.  The  struggle  of 
Reason  against  Authority,  which  began  with  Abelard,  has  not 
yet  terminated.  “ My  disciples,”  he  says  in  his  Introduction, 
“ asked  me  for  arguments  drawn  from  philosophy  such  as  reason 
demanded,  begging  me  to  instruct  them  that  they  might  under- 
stand, and  not  merely  repeat  what  was  taught  them ; since  no 
one  can  believe  any  thing  until  he  has  first  understood  it ; and  it 
is  ridiculous  to  preach  to  others  what  neither  teacher  nor  pupil 
understand.” 

Not  content  with  this  revolutionary  principle,  Abelard  further 
“ transgressed  the  limits  of  his  forefathers”  by  the  composition  of 
the  treatise  Sic.et  Non,\  the  object  of  which  was  to  cite  the  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  and  the  Fathers  pro  and  con.  upon  every  im- 
portant topic  : this  collocation  of  contradictory  statements  given 
by  the  highest  possible  authorities  was  meant,  as  Abelard  dis- 
tinctly informs  us,  to  train  the  mind  to  vigorous  and  healthy 
doubt,  in  fulfilment  of  the  injunction,  “ Seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ; 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you.”  “ Dubitando  enim  ad 
inquisitionem  venimus ; inquirendo  veritatem  percipimus ; juxta 
quod  et  Veritas  ipsa  Qucerite,  inquit,  invenietis  ; pulsate,  et  ape- 
rietur  vobisr\  Whatever  his  intention  may  have  been,  the  re- 


* Dialectica,  p.  434. 

t It  is  printed  in  Cousin’s  edition,  but  with  omissions.  The  entire  work 
was  published  in  Germany,  1841,  under  this  title : Petri  Ahaelardi  Sic  d 
Non  ; primum  integrum  ediderunt  E.  L Henke  et  O.  S.  lAndenhohl. 

I Page  17  of  the  edition  just  named. 


ALGAZZALI. 


361 


suit  of  such  a work  was  olearly  foreseen  by  theological  teachers, 
who  regarded  doubt  as  damnable,  and  would  not  tolerate  it  under 
the  plausible  aspects  of  intellectual  gymnastics,  or  the  love  of 
seeking  for  truth.  But  theologians  were  unable  to  arrest  the 
development  of  speculation.  Doubt  began ; disputation  waxed 
stronger ; logic  played  like  lambent  flame  around  the  most  sacred 
subjects ; Scholasticism  entered  every  city  in  Europe,  and  filled 
.t  with  subtle  disputants. 

During  the  centuries  which  succeeded,  the  question  of  Nomi- 
nalism was  constantly  in  debate ; and  besides  it  many  others  so 
remote,  and,  to  modern  apprehensions,  so  frivolous,  that  few  his- 
torians boast  of  more  than  superficial  acquaintance  with  mediaeval 
philosophy,  and  few  mention  it  without  scorn.  To  name  but 
one  topic,  what  does  the  reader  think  of  a debate,  utrum  Deus 
intelligat  omnia  alia  a se  jper  ideas  eorum,  an  aliter?  What 
does  he  think  of  men  wasting  their  energies  in  trying  to  convince 
each  other  of  the  true  process  by  which  God  conceived  ideas — 
discussing,  with  ardor  and  unmisgiving  ingenuity,  topics  which 
are  necessarily  beyond  all  possible  demonstration  ? Nevertheless, 
absurd  as  such  discussions  were,  they  have  found,  even  in  modern 
times,  legitimate  successors ; and  the  laborious  futility  of  the 
Schoolmen  has  been  rivalled  by  the  laborious  futility  of  the  Ger- 
man metaphysicians. 

We  are  not  here  to  follow  step  by  step  the  long  course  of  me- 
diaeval speculation,  but  may  pass  at  once  to  the  Arabian  Philos- 
ophy as  illustrated  in  Algazzali. 

§ ill.  Algazzali. 

In  our  ignorance  of  Arabian  history,  it  would  be  presumptuous 
to  assert  that,  uYitil  the  Greeks  became  known  to  them,  the  Arabs 
had  no  philosophy  at  all  of  their  own  ; but  whatever  they  may 
have  had,  we  are  only  repeating  their  own  avowal  in  asserting, 
that  after  their  acquaintance  with  the  Grecian  systems,  all  phil- 
osophical energy  was  devoted  to  the  mastery  and  development 
of  those  systems.  The  history  of  their  philosophy  is  divided  into 


362 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


two  parts  : the  first  comprising  the  period  of  ancient  thinkerSj 
the  Greeks  ; the  second  comprising  the  efforts  of  the  Mussulman 
schools.  The  Greek  schools  were  divided  into  two  series,  those 
which  preceded  and  those  which  succeeded  Aristotle."*  In  the 
first  series  there  is  scarcely  a name  familiar  to  our  ears  which 
was  not  familiar  to  the  Arabian  philosophers,  Orpheus  and 
Homer  included.  The  Seven  Sages  are  constantly  alluded  to. 
Thales,  Anaximenes,  Heraclitus,  in  short  all  the  great  thinkers, 
are  expounded  and  commented  on,  not,  according  to  M.  Schmol- 
ders,  with  any  historical  or  critical  accuracy,  hut  at  any  rate 
sufficiently  to  show  their  acquaintance  with  Greek  books.  In 
the  series  succeeding  Aristotle  they  are  more  at  home.  They 
translated  every  work  they  could  procure,  and  studied  with  ser-  , 
vile  ingenuity  to  appropriate  all  the  doctrines  of  the  Stagirite. 
Thus  it  is  that  Arabian  Philosophy  lies  heside  the  sphere  of 
European  development;  although  the  Arabians  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  development  of  European  culture  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  Averroes  and  Avicenna  were  long  regarded  as 
magistri^  no  sooner  did  Europe  possess  the  originals  from  which 
the  Arabs  learned,  than  they  neglected  these  interpreters,  and 
interpreted  for  themselves. 

The  work  which  will  form  the  basis  of  the  present  Section  is 
one  which  has  the  attraction  of  being  entirely  original — the  his- 
tory of  a mind  developing  amid  Arabian  influences,  and  not  the 
mere  reflex  of  Grecian  thought.  It  is  probably  owing  to  the 
originality  of  this  treatise  that  it  was  never  translated  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  translators  of  those  days  caring  only  for  Greek 
Philosophy ; and  thus,  in  spite  of  the  high  reputation  of  Algazzali, 
the  work  was  a closed  book  to  all  but  Arabian  scholars,  until  1842, 
when  a learned  German  reprinted  it  with  a translation  into  French.f 

Algazzali,  the  Light  of  Islam  and  Pillar  of  the  Mosque,  whc 


* Schmolders,  Essai  sur  les  Eeoles  Philosophiques  oTiez  les  Arabes,  p.  9G. 
t Essai  sur  les  Eccles  Ehilosophiques  chez  les  Arabes.  Par  M.  Sehmolders- 
Paris,  1842.  From  my  notice  of  this  work  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  April 
1847,  1 have  incorporated  many  passages  in  the  present  Section. 


ALGAZZALI. 


363 


nnder  the  names  of  Gazzali,  Ghazail,  and  Algazel  is  frequently 
mentioned  by  writers  on  Arabian  Philosophy,  and  was  at  one 
time  made  familiar  to  Europe  by  the  attacks  of  his  adversary 
Averroes,  was  born  in  the  city  of  Tons,  a.  d.  1508.  He  was 
named  Abou  Hamed  Mohammed,  and  his  father  was  a dealer  in 
cotton-thread  (^gazzal)^  from  whence  he  drew  his  name.  Losing 
his  father  in  early  life,  he  was  confided  to  the  care  of  a Soufi. 
The  nearest  approach  to  what  is  meant  by  a Soufi,  is  what  we 
mean  by  Mystic.  The  infiuence  of  this  Soufi  was  great.  Ho 
sooner  had  the  youth  finished  his  studies,  than  he  was  appointed 
professor  of  theology  at  Bagdad,  where  his  eloquence  achieved 
such  splendid  success  that  all  the  Imams  became  his  eager  parti- 
sans. So  great  was  the  admiration  he  inspired,  that  the  Mus- 
sulman sometimes  said,  “ If  all  Islam  were  destroyed,  it  would 
be  but  a slight  loss,  provided  Algazzali’s  work  on  the  ‘ Revivifi- 
cation of  the  Sciences  of  Religion’  were  preserved.”  It  is  this 
work  which  M.  Schmolders  has  translated.  It  hears  so  remark- 
able a resemblance  to  the  Discours  sur  la  Methode  of  Descartes, 
that,  had  any  translation  of  it  existed  in  the  days  of  Descartes, 
every  one  would  have  cried  out  against  the  plagiarism. 

Like  Descartes,  he  begins  with  describing  how  he  had  in  vain 
interrogated  every  sect  for  an  answer  to  the  mysterious  problems 
which  “ disturbed  him  with  a sense  of  things  unknown and 
how  he  finally  resolved  to  discard  all  authority,  and  detach  him- 
self from  the  opinions  which  had  been  instilled  into  him  during 
the  unsuspecting  years  of  childhood.  “ I said  to  myself,”  he 
proceeds,  “ My  aim  is  simply  to  know  the  truth  of  things ; con- 
sequently it  is  indispensable  for  me  to  ascertain  what  is  knowl- 
edge. Now,  it  was  evident  to  me  that  certain  knowledge  must  be 
that  which  explains  the  object  to  be  known,  in  such  a manner 
that  no  doubt  can  remain,  so  that  in  future  all  error  and  conjec- 
ture respecting  it  must  be  impossible.  Not  only  would  the 
understanding  then  need  no  efi'orts  to  be  convinced  of  certitude, 
but  security  against  error  is  in  such  close  connection  with  knowl- 
edge, that  even  were  an  apparent  proof  of  its  falsehood  to  be 


364 


FROM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


brought  forward,  it  would  cause  no  doubt,  because  no  suspicion 
of  error  would  be  possible.  Thus,  when  I have  acknowledged 
ten  to  be  more  than  three,  if  any  one  were  to  say,  ‘ On  the  con 
trary,  three  is  more  than  ten ; and  to^  prove  the  truth  of  my 
assertion,  I will  ehange  this  rod  into  a serpent and  if  he  were 
to  change  it,  my  conviction  of  his  error  would  remain  unshaken. 
Ilis  manoeuvre  would  only  produce  in  me  admiration  for  his 
ability.  I should  not  doubt  my  own  knowledge. 

“ Then  was  I convinced  that  knowledge  which  I did  not  pos- 
sess in  this  manner,  and  respecting  which  I had  not  this  cer- 
tainty, could  inspire  me  with  neither  confidence  nor  assurance ; 
and  no  knowledge  without  assurance  deserves  the  name  of 
knowledge. 

“ Having  examined  the  state  of  my  own  knowledge,  I found  it 
divested  of  all  that  could  be  said  to  have  these  qualities,  unless 
perceptions  of  the  senses  and  irrefragable  principles  were  to  be 
considered  such.  I then  said  to  myself,  Now  having  fallen  into 
this  despair,  the  only  hope  remaining  of  acquiring  incontestable 
convictions  is  by  the  perception  of  the  senses,  and  by  necessary 
truths.  Their  evidence  seemed  to  me  indubitable.  I began, 
however,  to  examine  the  objects  of  sensation  and  speculation,  to 
see  if  they  could  possibly  admit  of  doubt.  Then  doubts  crowded 
upon  me  in  such  numbers  that  my  incertitude  became  complete. 
Whence  results  the  confidence  I have  in  sensible  things  ? The 
strongest  of  all  our  senses  is  sight;  and  yet,  looking  at  a shadow 
and  perceiving  it  to  be  fixed  and  immovable,  we  judge  it  to  be 
deprived  of  movement ; nevertheless,  experience  teaches  us  that, 
when  we  return  to  the  same  place  an  hour  after,  the  shadow  is 
displaced ; for  it  does  not  vanish  suddenly,  but  gradually,  little 
by  little,  so  as  never  to  be  at  rest.  If  we  look  at  the  stars,  they 
seem  as  small  as  money-pieces ; but  mathematical  proofs  convince 
us  they  are  larger  than  the  earth.  These  and  other  things  are 
judged  by  the  senses,  but  rejected  by  reason  as  false.  I aban- 
doned the  senses,  therefore,  having  seen  all  my  confidence  in 
their  tmth  shaken. 


algazzAli. 


365 


“ Perhaps,”  said  I,  “ there  is  no  assurance  but  in  the  notions  of 
Reason : that  is  to  say,  first  principles,  e.  g.  ten  is  more  than 
three : the  same  thing  cannot  have  been  created  and  yet  have 
existed  from  all  eternity;  to  exist  and  not  to  exist  at  the  same 
time  is  impossible. 

“ Upon  this  the  senses  replied  : What  assurance  have  you  that 
your  confidence  in  Reason  is  not  of  the  same  nature  as  your 
confidence  in  us  ? When  you  relied  on  us.  Reason  stepped  in 
and  gave  us  the  lie ; had  not  Reason  been  there,  you  would  have 
continued  to  rely  on  us.  Well,  may  there  not  exist  some  other 
judge  superior  to  Reason,  who,  if  he  appeared,  would  refute  the 
judgments  of  Reason  in  the  same  way  that  Reason  refuted  us  ? 
The  non-appearance  of  such  a judge  is  no  proof  of  his  non-ex- 
istence.” 

These  skeptical  arguments  Algazzali  borrowed  from  the  Gre- 
cian skeptics,  and  having  borrowed  them,  he  likewise  borrowed 
from  Grecian  mystics,  of  the  Alexandrian  school,  the  means  of 
escape  from  skepticism.  He  looked  upon  life  as  a dream. 

“ 1 strove  in  vain  to  answer  the  objections.  And  my  difficul- 
ties increased  when  I came  to  refiect  upon  sleep.  I said  to  my- 
self, During  sleep  you  give  to  visions  a reality  and  consistence, 
and  you  have  no  suspicion  of  their  untruth.  On  awakening, 
you  are  made  aware  that  they  were  nothing  but  visions.  What 
assurance  have  you,  that  all  you  feel  and  know  when  awake,  does 
actually  exist  ? It  is  all  true  as  respects  your  condition  at  that 
moment ; but  it  is,  nevertheless,  possible  that  another  condition 
should  present  itself,  which  should  be  to  your  awakened  state 
that  which  your  awakened  state  now  is  to  your  sleep ; so  that, 
in  respect  to  this  higher  condition,  your  waking  is  but  sleep.” 

If  such  a superior  condition  be  granted,  Algazzali  asks  whether 
we  can  ever  attain  to  participation  in  it.  He  suspects  that  the 
Ecstasy  described  by  the  Soufis  must  be  the  very  condition.  But 
he  finds  himself  philosophically  unable  to  escape  the  conse- 
quences, of  skepticism:  the  skeptical  arguments  could  only  be 
'efuted  oy  demonstrations ; but  demonstrations  themselves  must 
26 


366 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


be  founded  on  first  principles ; if  they  are  uncertain,  no  demon- 
stration can  be  certain. 

“ I was  thus  forced  to  return  to  the  admission  of  intellectual 
notions  as  the  basis  of  all  certitude.  This,  however,  was  not  hy 
systematic  reasoning  and  accumulation  of  proofs,  hut  by  a flash 
of  light  which  God  sent  into  my  soul.  For  whoever  imagines  that 
truth  can  only  he  rendered  evident  hy  proofs,  places  narrow  limits 
to  the  wide  compassion  of  the  Creator.” 

Thus  we  see  Algazzali  eluding  skepticism  ^ust  as  the  Alexan- 
drians eluded  it,  taking  refuge  in  faith.  He  then  cast  his  eyes  on 
the  various  sects  of  the  faithful,  whom  he  ranged  under  four 
classes : 

I.  The  Dogmatists : those  who  ground  their  doctrine  wholly 
upon  reason. 

II.  The  Basttnls,  or  Allegorists : those  who  receive  their  doc- 
trine from  an  Imam,  and  believe  themselves  sole  possessors  of  truth. 

III.  The  Philosophers : those  who  call  themselves  masters  of 
Logic  and  Demonstration. 

IV.  The  Soufls : those  who  claim  an  immediate  intuition,  by 
which  they  perceive  the  real  manifestations  of  truth  as  ordinary 
men  perceive  material  phenomena. 

These  schools  he  resolved  thoroughly  to  question.  In  the 
writings  of  the  Dogmatists  he  acknowledged  that  their  aim  was 
realized ; but  their  aim  was  not  his  aim  : “ Their  aim,”  he  says, 
“ is  the  preservation  of  the  Faith  from  the  alterations  introduced 
by  heretics.”  But  his  object  was  philosophical,  not  theological ; 
so  he  turned  from  the  Dogmatists  to  the  Philosophers,  studying 
cheir  works  with  intense  ardor,  convinced  that  he  could  not  refute 
them  until  he  had  thoroughly  understood  them.  He  did  refute 
them,  entirely  to  his  satisfaction  ;*  and  having  done  so,  turned 
to  the  Soufis,  in  whose  writings  he  found  a doctrine  which  re- 
quired the  union  of  action  with  speculation,  in  which  virtue  was 

* In  the  ninth  volume  of  the  works  of  Averroes  there  is  a treatise  by  Al- 
gazzaJi,  Destruetvo  Philosophorum,  which  contains  his  refutation  »f  the  phil- 
osophical schooih.  , 


ALGAZZlLI. 


367 


a guide  to  knowledge.  The  aim  of  the  Soufis  was  to  free  the 
mind  from  earthly  considerations,  to  purify  it  from  all  passions, 
to  leave  it  only  God  as  an  object  of  meditation.  The  highest 
truths  were  not  to  be  reached  by  study^  but  by  transport — by  a 
transformation  of  the  soul  during  ecstasy.  There  is  the  same 
difference  between  this  higher  order  of  truth  and  ordinary  sci- 
ence, as  between  being  healthy  and  knowing  the  definition  of 
health.  To  reach  this  state,  it  was  necessary  first  to  purify  the 
soul  from  all  earthly  desires,  to  extirpate  from  it  all  attachment 
to  the  world,  and  humbly  direct  the  thoughts  to  our  eternal 
home. 

“Eeflecting  on  my  situation,  I found  myself  bound  to  this 
world  by  a thousand  ties,  temptations  assailing  me  on  all  sides. 
I then  examined  my  actions.  The  best  were  those  relating  to 
instruction  and  education ; and  even  there  I saw  myself  given 
up  to  unimportant  sciences,  all  useless  in  another  world.  Eeflect- 
ing on  the  aim  of  my  teaching,  I fonnd  it  was  not  pure  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord.  I saw  that  all  my  efforts  were  directed  to- 
wards the  acquisition  of  glory  to  myself.” 

Thus  did  Philosophy  lead  him  to  a speculative  Asceticism, 
which  calamity  was  shortly  afterwards  to  transform  into  practical 
Asceticism.  One  day,  as  he  was  about  to  lecture  to  a throng  ot 
admiring  auditors,  his  tongue  refused  utterance : he  was  dumb. 
This  seemed  to  him  a visitation  of  God,  a rebuke  to  his  vanity, 
which  deeply  afflicted  him.  He  lost  his  appetite ; he  was  fast  sink- 
ing ; physicians  declared  his  recovery  hopeless,  unless  he  could 
shake  off  the  sadness  which  depressed  him.  He  sought  refuge  in 
contemplation  of  the  Deity. 

“ Having  distributed  my  wealth,  I left  Bagdad  and  retired  into 
Syria,  where  I remained  two  years  in  solitary  struggle  with  my 
soul,  combating  my  passions  and  exercising  myself  in  the  purifica- 
tion of  my  heart,  and  in  preparation  for  the  other  world.” 

He  visited  Jerusalem,  and  made  a pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  but  at 
length  returned  to  Bagdad,  urged  thereto  by  “ private  affairs”  and 
the  requests  of  his  children,  as  he  says,  but  more  probably  urged 


368 


FEOM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


thereto  by  bis  sense  of  failure,  for  he  confesses  not  to  have  reached 
the  ecstatic  stage.  Occasional  glimpses  were  all  he  could  attain, 
isolated  moments  of  exaltation  passing  quickly  away. 

“Nevertheless,  I did  not  despair  of  finally  attaining  this  state. 
Every  time  that  any  accident  turned  me  from  it,  I endeavored 
quickly  to  re-enter  it.  In  this  condition  I remained  ten  years.  In 
lily  solitude  there  were  revelations  made  to  me  which  it  is  impos- 
sible for  me  to  describe,  or  even  indicate.  Enough  if,  for  the 
reader’s  profit,  I declare  that  the  conviction  was  forced  upon  me 
that  the  Soufis  indubitably  walked  in  the  true  paths  of  salvation. 
Their  way  of  life  is  the  most  beautiful,  and  their  morals  the 
purest  that  can  be  conceived.” 

The  first  condition  of  Soufi  purification  is,  that  the  novice 
purge  his  heart  of  all  that  is  not  God.  Prayers  are  the  means. 
The  object  is  absorption  in  the  Deity. 

“ From  the  very  first,  Soufis  have  such  astonishing  revelations 
that  they  are  enabled,  while  waking,  to  see  visions  of  angels  and 
the  souls  of  the  prophets ; they  hear  their  voices,  and  receive  their 
favors.  Afterwards  a transport  exalts  them  beyond  the  mere  per- 
ception of  forms,  to  a degree  which  exceeds  all  expression,  and  con- 
cerning which  we  cannot  speak  without  employing  language  that 
would  sound  blasphemous.  In  fact,  some  have  gone  so  far  as  to 
imagine  themselves  to  be  amalgamated  with  God,  others  identified 
with  him,  and  others  to  be  associated  with  him.*  All  these  are 
sinful.” 

Algazzali  refuses  to  enter  more  minutely  into  this  subject ; he 
contents  himself  with  the  assertion  that  whoso  knows  not  Ecstasy 
knows  prophetism  only  by  name.  And  what  is  Prophetism? 
The  fourth  stage  in  intellectual  development.  The  first,  or  infant- 
ile stage,  is  that  of  pure  Sensation ; the  second,  which  begins  at 
the  age  of  seven,  is  that  of  Understanding;  the  third  is  Reason 
by  means  of  which  the  intellect  perceives  the  necessary,  the  pos- 
sible, the  absolute,  and  all  those  higher  objects  which  transcend 

* How  characteristic  this  is  of  mysticism  in  all  ages  may  be  seen  in  the 
delightful  Eours  with  the  Mystics,  by  Mr.  E.  A.  Vaughan. 


ALGAZZALI. 


369 


the  Understanding.*  After  this  comes  the  fourth  stage,  when 
another  eye  is  opened,  by  which  man  perceives  things  hidden  from 
others — perceives  all  that  will  be — perceives  things  that  escape 
the  perceptions  of  Reason,  as  the  objects  of  Reason  escape  the 
Understanding,  and  as  the  objects  of  Understanding  escape  the 
sensitive  faculty.  This  is  Prophetism.  Algazzali  undertakes  to 
prove  the  existence  of  this  faculty  : 

“Doubts  respecting  Prophetism  must  refer  either  to  its  possibility 
or  its  reality.  To  prove  its  possibility  it  is  only  necessary  to  prove 
that  it  belongs  to  the  category  of  objects  which  cannot  be  regarded 
as  the  products  of  intelligence  : such,  for  example,  as  Astronomy  or 
Medicine.  For  whoso  studies  these  sciences  is  aware  that  they 
cannot  be  comprehended  except  by  Divine  inspiration,  with  the 
assistance  of  God,  and  not  by  experience.  Since  there  are  astro- 
nomical indications  which  only  appear  once  in  a thousand  years, 
how  could  they  be  known  by  experience  ? From  this  argument  it 
is  evident  that  it  is  very  possible  to  perceive  things  which  the 
intelligence  cannot  conceive.  And  this  is  precisely  one  of  the 
properties  of  Prophetism,  which  has  a myriad  other  properties ; 
but  these  others  are  only  perceptible  during  ecstasy  by  those  who 
lead  the  life  of  the  Soufis.” 

We  are  now  in  a position  to  judge  of  Soufism,  which  was  not, 
strictly  speaking,  a Philosophy,  nor  was  it  a Religion.  No  Mus- 
sulman, according  to  M.  Schmolders,  ever  regarded  it  as  either. 
It  was  simply  a rule  of  life,  carried  into  practice  by  a body  of 
men,  similar  to  what  in  Europe  would  ha^e  been  a monastic  order. 
The  aim  of  Algazzali’s  treatise  was  something  more  than  the 
mere  inculcation  of  Soufism,  it  was  the  endeavor  to  supply  a 
■philosophical  basis  for  the  rule  of  life ; in  other  words,  an  attempt 
to  reconcile  Religion  with  Philosophy,  or  Philosophy  with  Re- 
ligion ; precisely  analogous  to  that  attempt  which  constitutes  the 
whole  philosophic  activity  of  Scholasticism.  There  were  two 
great  epochs  in  the  intellectual  development  of  the  Arabians ; the 


* Kant’s  three  psychological  elements,  Siainlichheit,  Veratand,  Vernun/t, 
are  here  anticipated. 


370 


FROM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


preaching  of  Mahomet,  and  the  conquest  of  Alexandria : the  one 
gave  them  a Religion,  the  other  gave  them  a Philosophy.  The 
doctrines  of  the  Koran  were  blended  with  those  of  the  Neo-Pla- 
tonists,  and  the  result  was  that  system  of  speculation  known  as 
Arabian  Philosophy ; a system  different  in  its  details,  but  similar 
in  spirit  and  purpose  to  that  known  as  Scholasticism,  which 
blended  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  with  those  of  Grecian  spec- 
ulators. 

§ IV.  Revival  of  Learning. 

However  similar  in  spirit,  Scholasticism  could  of  course  only 
accept,  from  the  Arabian  Philosophy,  that  portion  which  was  de- 
rived from  Greece,  since  Christianity  necessarily  replaced  the  Ma- 
hometan element.  Europe  was  indebted  to  the  Arabs  for  most  ot 
the  principal  works  of  Aristotle ; and  although  it  has  long  been 
the  cue  of  historians  and  critics  to  speak  contemptuously  of  the 
Arabian  translations — a contempt  perfectly  impartial,  seeing  that 
the  critics  could  read  no  Arabic — we  are  assured  by  M.  Schmdlders 
that  these  translations  were  very  careful,  and  critical.  Through 
the  schools  of  Cordoba,  Seville,  Toledo,  Valencia,  Murcia,  and 
Almeria,  the  Greek  writers  penetrated  everywhere. 

With  the  revival  of  learning,  after  the  fall  of  Constantinople 
came  fresh  streams  of  Grecian  influence.  The  works  of  Plato  be- 
came generally  known ; under  Marsilio  Ficino — to  whom  we  owe 
the  Latin  translation  of  Plato* — a school  ofPlatonists  was  formed, 
which  continued  to  divide,  with  the  school  of  Aristotle,  the  su- 
premacy  of  Europe,  under  new  forms,  as  before  it  had  divided  it 
under  the  form  of  Realism.  The  effect  of  this  influx  of  Grecian 
influence,  at  a period  when  Philosophy  was  just  emancipating 
itself  from  the  absolute  authority  of  the  Church,  and  proclaiming 
the  divine  right  of  Reason  to  be  heard  on  all  rational  topics,  was  to 
transfer  the  allegiance  from  the  Church  to  Antiquity.  To  have 
suddenly  cast  off  all  authority  would  have  been  too  violent  a 


* In  many  respects  our  best  guide  to  Plato’s  meaning  where  he  is  most 
obscure.  It  is  printed  in  Bekker’s  edition. 


KEVIVAL  OF  LEAENING. 


371 


change ; and  it  may  on  the  whole  be  regarded  as  fortunate  for 
human  development  that  Philosophy  did  so  blindly  accept  the 
new  authority — one  altogether  human,  yet  without  deep  roots  in 
the  life  of  the  nation,  without  any  external  constituted  power, 
consequently  very  liable  to  disunion  and  disruption,  and  certain 
to  give  way  before  the  necessary  insurgence  of  Season  insisting 
on  freedom. 

There  is  something  profoundly  significant  in  the  principle  ot 
Authority,  when  not  exercised  despotically,  and  something  essen- 
tially anarchical  in  the  principle  of  Liberty  of  Thought,  when  not 
restrained  within  due  limits.  Both  Authority  and  Liberty  are 
necessary  principles,  which  only  in  misuse  become  paralyzing  or 
destructive.  It  may  be  made  perfectly  clear  to  the  rational  mind 
that  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  “liberty  of  private  judgment” 
in  Mathematics,  Astronomy,  Physics,  Chemistry,  or  any  other 
science  the  truths  of  which  have  been  established ; the  person 
ignorant  of  these  sciences  does,  and  must,  take  upon  trust  the 
statements  made  by  those  who  are  authorities ; he  cannot  indulge 
his  “ private  judgment”  on  the  matter,  without  forfeiting  the  re- 
spect of  those  who  hear  him.  Does  this  mean  that  all  men  are 
bound  blindly  to  accept  what  astronomers  and  chemists  assert  ? 
No ; to  require  such  submission  of  the  judgment,  is  to  pass  beyond 
the  principle  of  Authority,  and  assume  that  of  Despotism.  The 
principle  of  Liberty  assures  entire  Ireedom  to  intellectual  activity, 
warrants  the  control  of  Authority,  incites  men  to  control  it  by 
submitting  its  positions  to  those  elementary  tests  by  which  it  was 
tself  originally  constituted.  If  I have  made  a series  of  experiments 
which  have  led  to  the  disclosure  of  an  important  truth,  your 
iberty  of  private  judgment  is  mere  anarchy  if  it  assert  itself  in 
denying  the  truth  simply  out  of  your  own  preconceptions ; but  it 
is  healthy  freedom  if  it  assert  itself  in  denying  the  truth  after 
uaving  submitted  my  authority  to  its  original  tests  (those  experi- 
ments, namely,  which  gave  it  authority),  and  after  detecting  some 
error  in  my  experimentation,  or  some  inaccuracy  in  my  induction. 
The  authoritative  statement  of  Sir  Charles  Bell,  repeated  by  every 


372 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


other  anatomist,  respecting  the  separate  functions  of  the  anterioi 
and  posterior  columns  of  the  spinal  chord,  was  one  which  permitted 
no  liberty  of  private  judgment,  but  did  permit  liberty  of  private 
verification  ; and  when  M.  Brown-Sequard  repeated  the  original 
experiments  and  proved  the  former  conclusions  to  be  erroneous,* 
his  authoritative  statement  replaced  that  of  previous  anatomists, 
and  will  continue  to  replace  it,  until  it  has  undergone  a similar 
defeat  through  the  process  of  verification. 

If  this  is  a correct  view,  it  will  enable  us  to  understand  the 
long  continuance  of  Aristotle’s  authority,  which  coerced  the 
minds  of  men  as  the  authority  of  one  confessedly  a master  in  his 
art,  and  one  whose  positions  would  not  easily  be  brought  to  the 
test  of  verification.  Hence,  as  Bayle  says,  the  method  employed 
was  first  to  prove  every  thesis  by  authority,  and  next  by  argu- 
ments ; the  proofs  by  authority  were  passages  of  Aristotle  : the 
arguments  went  to  show  that  these  passages,  rightly  interpreted, 
meant  what  the  thesis  meant. 

Other  causes  contributed  to  foster  this  reverence  for  Authority ; 
only  one  cause  could  eflfectually  destroy  it,  and  that  was  the  rise 
of  positive  Science,  which  by  forcing  men  to  verify  every  step 
they  took,  led  them  into  direct  antagonism  with  the  ancients, 
and  made  them  choose  between  the  new  truth  and  the  old  dogma. 
As  Campanella — one  of  the  reforming  thinkers — acutely  saw, 
“the  reforms  already  made  in  philosophy  must  make  us  expect 
its  complete  change ; and  whoever  denies  that  the  Christian 
mind  will  surpass  the  Pagan  mind,  must  also  deny  the  existence 
of  the  New  World,  the  planets  and  the  stars,  the  seas,  the  ani 
mals,  the  colonies,  and  the  modern  sects  of  the  new  cosmog- 
raphy.”! It  does  not  come  within  our  purpose  here  to  trace 
the  rise  and  development  of  Science;  we  must  therefore  pass  at 
once  to  Giordano  Bruno,  whom  we  have  selected  as  the  type  oi 
the  philosophical  insurgents  against  the  anthority  of  Aristotle 
and  the  Church. 


* See  Memoires  de  la  Societe  de  Biologie.  1855. 

+ Quoted  by  M.  Eenouvier,  Manual  de  Philos.  Moderns.,  p.  7. 


GIOEDANO  BKUNO. 


373 


§ V.  Giokdano  Bruno.* 

On  the  iVth  of  Fehruary,  1600,  a vast  concourse  of  people  was 
assembled  in  the  largest  open  space  in  Kome,  gathered  together 
Dy  the  irresistible  sympathy  which  men  always  feel  with  what- 
ever is  terrible  and  tragic  in  human  existence.  In  the  centre 
stood  a huge  pile  of  fagots ; from  out  its  logs  and  branches  rose 
a stake.  Crowding  round  the  pile  were  eager  and  expectant 
faces,  men  of  various  ages  and  of  various  characters,  but  all  for 
one  moment  united  in  a common  feeling  of  malignant  triumph. 
Religion  was  about  to  be  avenged  : a heretic  was  coming  to  ex- 
piate on  that  spot  the  crime  of  open  defiance  to  the  dogmas  pro- 
claimed by  the  Church — the  crime  of  teaching  that  the  earth 
moved,  and  that  there  was  an  infinity  of  worlds  : the  scouddrel ! 
the  villain ! the  blasphemer ! Among  the  crowd  might  be  seen 
monks  of  every  description,  especially  Dominicans,  who  were 
anxious  to  witness  the  punishment  of  an  apostate  from  their 
order ; wealthy  citizens  were  jostling  ragged  beggars, — young 
and  beauteous  women,  some  of  them  with  infants  at  their  breasts, 
were  talking  with  their  husbands  and  fathers, — and  playing 
about  amidst  the  crowd,  in  all  the  heedlessness  of  childhood, 
were  a number  of  boys,  squeezing  their  way,  and  running  up 
against  scholars  pale  with  study,  and  bearded  soldiers  glittering 
with  steeL 

Whom  does  the  crowd  await  ? Giordano  Bruno — the  poet, 
philosopher,  and  heretic — the  teacher  of  Galileo’s  heresy — the 
friend  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  open  antagonist  of  Aristotle. 
Questions  pass  rapidly  to  and  fro  among  the  crowd  ; exultation 
is  on  every  face,  mingled  vrith  intense  curiosity.  Grave  men 
moralize  on  the  power  of  Satan  to  pervert  learning  and  talent  to 
evil : Oh,  my  friends,  let  us  beware ! — let  us  beware  of  learning ! 
let  us  beware  of  every  thing ! Bystanders  shake  significant 
heads.  A hush  comes  over  the  crowd.  The  procession  solemn- 


■*  In  this  Section  I have  altered  and  abridged  an  essay  of  my  own  in  the 
British  (.quarterly  Review. 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


3Ti 

ly  advances,  the  soldiers  peremptorily  clearing  the  way  for  it 
“ Look,  there  he  is — there,  in  the  centre  ! How  calm — ho’n 
haughty  and  stubborn  !”  (women  whisper,  “ How  handsome !”) 
His  large  eyes  are  turned  towards  us,  serene,  untroubled.  His 
face  is  placid,  though  so  pale.  They  offer  him  the  crucifix ; he 
turns  aside  his  head — he  refuses  to  kiss  it ! “ The  heretic !” 

They  show  him  the  image  of  Him  who  died  upon  the  cross  for 
the  sake  of  the  living  truth — he  refuses  the  symbol!  A yell 
bursts  from  the  multitude. 

They  chain  him  to  the  stake.  He  remains  silent.  Will  he 
not  pray  for  mercy  ? Will  he  not  recant?  Now  the  last  hour 
is  arrived — will  he  die  in  his  obstinacy,  when  a little  hypocrisy 
would  save  him  from  so  much  agony  ? It  is  even  so : he  is  stub- 
born, unalterable.  They  light  the  fagots ; the  branches  crackle ; 
the  flame  ascends ; the  victim  writhes — and  now  we  see  no  more. 
The  smoke  envelops  him ; but  not  a prayer,  not  a plaint,  not  a 
single  cry  escapes  him.  In  a little  while  the  wind  has  scattered 
the  ashes  of  Giordano  Bruno. 

The  martyrdom  of  Bruno  has  preserved  his  name  from  falling 
into  the  same  neglect  as  his  writings.  Most  well-read  men  re- 
member his  name  as  that  of  one  who,  whatever  his  errors  might 
have  been,  perished  a victim  of  intolerance.  But  the  extreme 
rarity  of  his  works,  aided  by  some  other  causes  into  which  it  is 
needless  here  to  enter,  has,  until  lately,  kept  even  the  most  curi- 
ous from  forming  any  acquaintance  with  them.  The  rarity  of 
the  writings  made  them  objects  of  bibliopolic  luxury : they  were 
the  black  swans  of  literature.  Three  hundred  florins  were  paid 
for  the  Spaccio,  in  Holland,  and  thirty  pounds  in  England. 
Jacobi’s  mystical  friend,  Hamann,  searched  Italy  and  Germany 
in  vain  for  the  dialogues  De  la  Causa  and  De  VInfinito.  But 
in  1830,  Herr  Wagner,  after  immense  toil,  brought  out  his  valu- 
able edition  of  the  Italian  works,  and  since  then  students  have 
been  able  to  form  some  idea  of  the  Neapolitan  thinker.* 

* Opere  di  Giordano  Bruno,  Nolano,  ora  per  la  prima  volta  raccolte  e pub- 
UicaU  da  Adolfo  Wagner,  2 vols.,  Leipzig,  1850 


GIORDANO  BRUNO. 


375 


Giordano  Bruno  was  born  at  Nola,  in  La  Terra  di  Lavoro,  a 
Tew  miles  from  Naples,  and  midway  between  Vesuvius  and  the 
Mediterranean.*  The  date  of  his  birth  is  fixed  as  1550 — that  is 
to  say,  ten  years  after  the  death  of  Copernicus, — whose  system 
he  was  to  espouse  with  such  ardor, — and  ten  years  before  the 
birth  of  our  own  illustrious  Bacon.  Tasso  well  says : 

“ La  terra 

Simili  a gli  abitator’  produce 

and  Bruno  was  a true  Neapolitan  child — as  ardent  as  its  volcanic 
soil,  burning  atmosphere,  and  dark  thick  wine  {mangia  guerra) 
— as  capricious  as  its  varied  climate.  There  was  a restless  en- 
ergy which  fitted  him  to  become  the  preacher  of  a new  crusade 
— urging  him  to  throw  a haughty  defiance  in  the  face  of  every 
authority  in  every  country, — an  energy  which  closed  his  wild 
adventurous  career  at  the  stake  lighted  by  the  Inquisition.  He 
was  also  distinguished  by  a rich  fancy,  a varied  humor,  and  a 
chivalrous  gallantry,  which  constantly  remind  us  that  the  athlete 
is  an  Italian,  and  an  Italian  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Stern  as 
was  the  struggle,  he  never  allowed  the  grace  of  his  nature  to  be 
vanquished  by  its  vehemence.  He  went  forth  as  a preacher; 
but  it  was  a preacher  young,  handsome,  gay,  and  worldly — as  a 
poet,  not  as  a fanatic. 

The  first  thing  we  hear  of  him  is  the  adoption  of  the  Domini- 
can’s frock.  In  spite  of  his  ardent  temperament,  so  full  of  vigor- 
ous life,  he  shuts  himself  up  in  a cloister, — allured,  probably,  by 
the  very  contrast  which  such  a life  ofiered  to  his  own  energetic 
character.  Bruno  in  a cloister  has  but  two  courses  open  to  him : 
either  all  that  affluent  energy  will  rush  into  some  stern  fanati- 
cism, and,  as  in  Loyola,  find  aliment  in  perpetual  self-combat,  and 
in  bending  the  wills  of  others  to  his  purposes ; or  else  his  restless 
spirit  of  inquiry,  stimulated  by  avidity  for  glory,  will  startle  and 
irritate  his  superiors.  It  was  not  long  ere  the  course  was  decided. 


* For  the  biographic  details  I am  mainly  indebted  to  the  valuable  work  ol 
M.  Christian  Bartholmess,  entitled  Jordano  Bruno,  2 vols.,  Paris,  1848, 


3T6 


FROM  PEOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


He  began  to  doubt  the  mystery  of  transubstantiation.  Nay 
more  ; he  not  only  threw  doubt  apon  the  dogmas  of  the  Church, 
he  had  also  the  audacity  to  attack  the  pillar  of  all  faith,  the  great 
authority  of  the  age — Aristotle  himself.  The  natural  conse 
quences  ensued — he  was  feared  and  persecuted.  Unable  to  with- 
stand his  opponents,  he  fled.  Casting  aside  the  monkish  robe, 
which  clothed  him  in  what  he  thought  a falsehood,  he  fled  from  * 
Italy  at  the  very  moment  when  Montaigne,  having  finished  the 
first  part  of  his  immortal  Essays,  entered  it,  to  pay  a visit  to  the 
unhappy  Tasso,  then  raving  in  an  hospital. 

Bruno  was  now  an  exile,  but  he  was  free ; and  the  delight  he 
felt  at  his  release  may  be  read  in  several  passages  of  his  writings, 
especially  in  the  sonnet  prefixed  to  L'Infinito : 

“Usoito  di  prigione  angusta  e nera, 

Ove  tanti  anni  error  stretto  m’  avvinse: 

Qua  laseio  la  catena,  che  mi  cinse, 

La  man  di  ihia  nemica  invida  e fera,”  etc. 

He  was  thirty  years  of  age  when  he  began  his  adventurous  course 
through  Europe — to  wage  single-handed  war  against  much  of 
the  falsehood,  folly,  and  corruption  of  his  epoch.  Like  his  great 
prototype,  Xenophanes,  who  wandered  over  Greece,  a rhapsodist 
of  philosophy,  striving  to  awaken  mankind  to  a recognition  of 
the  Deity  whom  they  degraded  by  their  dogmas,  and  like  his 
own  unhappy  rivals,  Campanella  and  Vauini,  Bruno  became  the 
knight-errant  of  truth,  ready  to  combat  all  comers  in  its  cause. 
His  life  was  a battle  without  a victory.  Persecuted  in  one  coun- 
try, he  fled  to  another — everywhere  sowing  the  seeds  of  revolt, 
everywhere  shaking  the  dynasty  of  received  opinion.  It  was  a 
strange  time, — to  every  earnest  man,  a sad  and  almost  hopeless 
time.  The  Church  was  in  a pitiable  condition — decaying  from 
within,  and  attacked  from  without.  The  lower  clergy  were  de- 
graded by  ignorance,  indolence,  and  sensuality ; the  prelates,  if 
more  enlightened,  were  enlightened  only  as  epicures  and  pedants, 
swearing  by  the  Gods  of  Greece  and  Borne,  and  laboriously  imi- 
tating the  sonorous  roll  of  Ciceronian  periods.  The  Keformation 


GIORDANO  BEDNO. 


377 


flad  startled  tlie  ■world,  especially  the  ecclesiastical  "world.  The 
Inquisition  was  vigilant  and  cruel ; but  among  its  very  members 
were  skeptics.  Skepticism,  with  a polish  of  hypocrisy,  was  the 
genei’al  disease.  It  penetrated  almost  everywhere — from  the 
cloister  to  the  cardinal’s  palace.  Skepticism,  however,  is  only  a 
transitory  disease.  Men  must  have  convictions.  Accordingly, 
in  all  ages,  we  see  skepticism  stimulating  new  reforms  ; and  re- 
formers were  not  wanting  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Of  the 
Lutheran  movement  it  is  needless  here  to  speak.  The  sixteenth 
century  marks  its  place  in  history  as  the  century  of  revolutions  : 
it  not  only  broke  the  chain  which  bound  Europe  to  Eome,  it 
also  broke  the  chain  which  bound  philosophy  to  Scholasticism 
and  Aristotle.  It  set  human  reason  free  ; it  proclaimed  the  lib- 
erty of  thought  and  action.  In  the  vanguard  of  its  army,  we 
see  Telesio,  Campanella,  and  Bruno,  men  who  must  always  excite 
our  admiration  and  our  gratitude  for  their  cause  and  for  their 
courage.  They  fell  fighting  for  freedom  of  thought  and  utter- 
ance— the  victims  of  a fanaticism  the  more  odious  because  it  was 
not  the  rigor  of  belief,  but  of  'pretended  belief  They  fought  in 
those  early  days  of  the  great  struggle  between  science  and  pre- 
judice, when  Galileo  was  a heretic,  and  when  the  implacable 
severity  of  dogmatism  baptized  in  blood  every  new  thought  born 
into  the  world. 

One  spirit  is  common  to  all  these  reformers,  however  various 
their  doctrines ; that  spirit  is  one  of  unhesitating  opposition  to 
the  dominant  authority.  It  is  the  crisis  of  the  Middle  Ages — 
the  modern  era  dawns  there.  In  the  fifteenth  century  men  were 
joccupied  with  the  newly  awakened  treasures  of  ancient  learning : 
it  was  a century  of  erudition ; the  past  was  worshipped  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  present.  In  art,  in  philosophy,  and  in  religion,  men 
sought  to  restore  the  splendors  of  an  earlier  time.  Brunelleschi, 
Michael  Angelo,  Eaphael,  disdaining  the  types  of  Gothic  art, 
strove  to  recall  once  more  the  classic  type.  Marsilio  Ficino, 
Mirandola,  Telesio,  and  Bruno,  discarding  the  subtleties  and  dis- 
putes of  Scholasticism,  endeavored  to  reproduce  Pythagoras, 


37S 


FKOM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


Plato,  and  Plotinus.  In  religion,  Luther  and  Calvin,  avowedlj 
rising  against  Papal  corruptions,  labored  to  restore  the  Church 
to  its  primitive  simplicity.  Thus  the  new  era  seemed  retrograde. 
It  is  often  so.  The  recurrence  to  an  earlier  time  is  the  prepara- 
tion for  a future.  We  cannot  leap  far,  leaping  from  the  spot 
where  we  stand ; we  must  step  backwards  a few  paces  to  acquire 
momentum. 

Giordano  Bruno  ceaselessly  attacked  Aristotle.  In  so  doing 
he  knew  that  he  grappled  with  the  Goliath  of  the  Church.  Aris- 
totle was  a synonym  for  reason.  An  anagTam  was  made  of  his 
name,  “ Aristoteles : iste  sol  erat."  His  logic  and  physics,  to- 
gether with  the  Ptolemaic  system  of  astronomy,  were  then  con- 
sidered as  inseparable  portions  of  the  Christian  creed.  In  1624 
— a quarter  of  a century  after  Bruno’s  martyrdom — the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris  issued  a decree  banishing  all  who  publicly  main- 
tained theses  against  Aristotle;  and  in  1629,  at  the  urgent 
remonstrance  of  the  Sorbonne,  decreed  that  to  contradict  the 
principles  of  Aristotle  was  to  contradict  the  Church  ! There  is 
an  anecdote  recorded  somewhere  of  a student,  who,  having  de- 
tected spots  in  the  sun,  communicated  his  discovery  to  a worthy 
priest : “ My  son,”  rejdied  the  priest,  “ I have  read  Aristotle 
many  times,  and  I assure  you  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  men- 
tioned by  him.  Go  rest  in  peace;  and  be  certain  that  the  spots 
which  you  have  seen  are  in  your  eyes,  and  not  in  the  sun.” 
When  Ramus  solicited  the  permission  of  Beza  to  teach  in  Ge- 
neva, he  w'as  told,  “the  Genovese  have  decreed  once  for  all,  that 
neither  in  logic,  nor  in  any  other  branch  of  knowledge,  will  they 
depart  from  the  opinions  of  Aristotle — ne  tantillum  quidem  ab 
Aristotelis  sentintia  deflectereV  It  is  well  known  that  the  Stagi- 
rite  narrowly  escaped  being  canonized  as  a Saint.  Are  you  for 
or  against  Aristotle  ? was  the  question  of  philosophy ; and  the 
piquant  aspect  of  this  dpKJ'TovsXsop.ajfia  is  the  fact  that  both  par- 
ties were  often  ignorant  of  the  real  opinions  of  the  Stagirite ; at- 
tributing to  him  indeed  doctrines  the  very  reverse  of  what  a more 
ample  knowledge  of  his  writings  has  shown  to  have  been  his. 


GIOKDANO  BRUNO. 


379 


Bruno,  as  we  said,  took  his  stand  opposite  to  the  Aristotelians. 
Pythagoras,  Plato,  and  Plotinus  were  his  teachers.  Something 
of  temperament  may  have  originated  this ; for  Bruno  undoubt- 
edly belongs  to  that  class  of  thinkers  in  whom  logic  is  hut  the 
handmaid  of  Imagination  and  Fancy.  To  him  the  Aristotle  of 
that  age  was  antipathetic.  The  Aristotelians  taught  that  the 
world  was  finite,  and  the  heavens  incorruptible.  Bruno  declared 
the  world  to  be  infinite,  and  subject  to  an  eternal  and  universal 
revolution.  The  Aristotelians  proclaimed  the  immobility  of  the 
earth : Bruno  proclaimed  its  rotation.  Such  open  dissidence 
could  of  course  only  enrage  the  party  in  power.  It  would  have 
been  sufficiently  audacious  to  promulgate  such  absurdities — hor- 
renda  prorsus  absurdissima — as  the  rotation  of  the  earth ; but  to 
defy  Aristotle  and  ridicule  his  logic,  could  only  proceed  from  in- 
sanity, or  impiety.  So  Bruno  had  to  fiy. 

To  Geneva  he  first  directed  his  steps.  But  there  the  power 
which  had  proved  stronger  than  the  partisans  of  Servetus,  was 
still  dominant.  He  made  his  escape  to  Toulouse ; there  he 
raised  a storm  among  the  Aristotelians,  such  as  compelled  him 
to  fly  to  Paris.  Behold  him  then  in  Paris,’ the  streets  of  which 
were  still  slippery  with  the  blood  of  the  Eve  of  St.  Bartholomew. 
One  expects  to  see  him  butchered  without  mercy ; but,  by  some 
good  fortune,  he  obtains  the  favor  of  Henry  III.,  who  not  only 
permits  him  to  lecture  at  the  Sorbonne,  but  offers  to  admit  him 
as  a salaried  professor,  if  Bruno  will  but  attend  Mass.  Is  it  not 
strange  that  at  a time  when  attendance  at  Mass  was  so  serious  a 
matter, — when  the  echoes  of  that  lugubrious  cry,  la  Messe  ou  la 
mart ! which  had  resounded  through  those  narrow  murky  streets, 
must  have  been  still  ringing  in  men’s  ears, — Bruno,  in  spite  ot 
his  refusal,  not  only  continued  to  lecture,  but  became  exceeding- 
ly popular  ? Since  Abelard  had  captivated  the  students  of  Paris 
with  his  facile  eloquence  and  startling  novelties,  no  teacher  had 
been  so  enthusiastically  received  as  Bruno.  Young,  handsome, 
eloquent,  and  facetious,  he  charmed  by  his  manner  no  less  than 
by  his  matter.  Adopting  by  turns  every  form  of  address — rising 


380 


FKOM  PKOOLUS  TO  BACON. 


into  tlie  aerial  altitudes  of  imagination,  or  descending  into  the 
kennel  of  obscenity  and  buffoonery — now  grave,  propliet-like,  and 
impassioned — now  fierce  and  controversial — now  fanciful  and 
humorous — he  threw  aside  all  the  monotony  of  professional 
gravity,  to  speak  to  them  as  a man.  He  did  not  on  this 
occasion  venture  openly  to  combat  the  prejudices  and  doc- 
trines of  the  age ; that  was  reserved  for  his  second  visit,  after 
he  had  learned  in  England  to  speak  as  became  a free  and  earn- 
est man. 

To  England  let  us  follow  him.  On  the  misty  banks  of  our 
noble  Thames,  he  was  rudely  initiated  into  the  brutality  of  the 
English  character;  but  he  was  amply  compensated  by  his  recep- 
tion at  the  Court  of  Elizabeth,  where  a friendly  welcome  awaited 
all  foreigners — especially  Italians.  Nor  was  his  southern  heart 
cold  to  the  exquisite  beauty  and  incomparable  grace  of  our  wo- 
men. England  was  worth  visiting ; and  he  had  reason  to  refer 
with  pride  to  “ questo  paese  Brittannico  a cui  doviamo  la  fedelta 
ed  amore  ospitale.”  It  was  in  England  he  published  the  greater 
part  of  his  Italian  works.  It  was  here  perhaps  that  the  serenest 
part  of  his  life  was  spent.  Patronized  by  the  Queen  (“  Tunica 
Diana  qual  e tra  voi,  qual  che  tra  gli  astri  il  sole,”  as  he  calls 
her),  he  had  the  glory  and  the  happiness  to  call  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney friend. 

In  the  high  communion  of  noble  minds,  in  the  interchange  of 
great  thoughts  and  glorious  aspirations,  another  than  Bruno 
might  have  been  content  to  leave  the  world  and  all  its  errors  in 
peace ; but  he  had  that  within  him  which  would  not  suffer  him 
to  be  at  rest.  He  could  not  let  the  world  wag  on  its  way,  con- 
tent to  smile  on  its  errors.  He  had  a mission — without  the  cant 
of  a mission.  He  was  a soldier,  and  had  his  battles  to  fight.  In 
the  society  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  Dyer,  Harvey, 
and  most  probably  of  Antonio  Perez  and  Shakspeare’s  Florio, 
Bruno  might  have  discussed  with  calmness  every  question  of  phi- 
losophy,— that  IS,  had  he  been  of  an  epicurean  turn — had  he  not 
been  Bruno.  As  it  was,  lured  by  his  passion  for  publicity — by 


GIORDANO  BRUNO.  381 

nis  vanity,  no  less  than  by  his  love  of  truth — he  rushed  into  the 
arena, 

“Confident  as  is  the  falcon’s  flight.” 

If  we  attribute  to  him  motives  not  altogether  pure — if  we  see  as 
much  ostentation  as  devotion  in  this  conduct,  let  it  be  remem- 
bered, that  in  this  life  the  great  aims  of  humanity  are  worked 
out  by  human  means,  wherein  the  impure  and  selfish  are  as  much 
vital  elements  as  the  noble.  In  the  great  mechanism  there  are 
numberless  trivial  wheels,  and  littleness  is  often  the  accessory 
spring  of  some  heroic  act.  This  is  no  concession  to  the  school 
of  Rochefoucauld.  That  school  makes  the  great  mistake  of  at- 
tributing the  splendor  of  the  sun  to  its  spots,— of  deriving  the 
greatness  of  human  nature  from  its  littleness.  A selfish  impulse 
will  often  mingle  with  the  unselfish  impulses  which  prompt  an 
heroic  act.  ' We  have  only  to  reflect  on  the  numerous  instances 
'of  selfish  impulse  unaccompanied  by  any  heroism,  to  be  assured 
that  if  selfishness  and  disinterestedness  may  be  found  conjoined 
in  the  mingled  woof  of  human  nature,  it  in  nowise  alters  the 
fact  of  disinterestedness,  it  in  nowise  lessens  the  worthiness  of 
heroism.  What  philosophy  is  that  which  sees  only  vanity  in 
martyrdom,  only  love  of  applause  in  the  daring  proclamation  of 
truth  ? Gold  without  dross  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  earth ; but 
is  it  therefore  copper  ? 

Let  us  follow  Bruno’s  course  with  other  feelings  than  those  of 
a short-sighted  philosophy.  It  was  not  ver}^  long  after  his  arrival 
in  England  (1583),  that  Leicester,  then  Chancellor  of  Oxford, 
gave  that  splendid  fHe  in  honor  of  the  County  Palatine  Albert 
de  Lasco,  of  which  the  annals  of  Oxford  and  the  works  of  Bruno 
have  preserved  some  details.  In  those  days  a foreigner  was 
“ lionized”  in  a more  grandiose  style  than  modern  Amphitryons 
attempt.  It  was  not  deemed  sufficient  to  ask  the  illustrious  stran- 
ger to  “ breakfast there  were  no  “ dinners”  given  in  public,  or  at 
the  club.  The  age  of  tournaments  had  passed  away ; but  there 
were  still  the  public  discussions,  which  were  a sort  of  passage-of- 
arms  between  the  knights  of  intellect.  And  such  a tourney  had 

2r 


582 


FROM  PBOCLUS  TO  fiACON. 


Leicester  prepared  in  honor  of  the  Pole.  Oxford  called  upon 
her  doughty  men  to  brighten  up  their  arms, — that  is  to  say,  to 
shake  the  dust  from  their  volumes  of  Aristotle, — and  all  comers 
M'ere  challenged.  Bruno  stepped  into  the  arena.  Oxford  chose 
her  best  men  to  combat  for  Aristotle  and  Ptolemy.  On  that 
cause  her  existence  seemed  to  depend.  Her  statutes  declared 
that  the  Bachelors  and  Masters- of  Arts  who  did  not  faithfully 
follow  Aristotle,  were  liable  to  a fine  of  five  shillings  for  every 
point  of  divergence,  or  for  every  fault  committed  against  the 
Organon,  Bruno  wittily  called  Oxford  the  widow  of  sound 
learning — “ la  vedova  di  buone  lettere.” 

The  details  of  this  “ wit  combat”  are  unknown  to  us.  Bruno 
declares  that  fifteen  times  did  he  stop  the  mouth  of  his  pitiable 
adversary,  who  could  only  reply  by  abuse.*  But  there  is  con- 
siderable forfanterie  about  the  Neapolitan,  and  such  statements 
must  be  received  with  caution.  That  he  created  a “ sensation,” 
we  have  no  doubt ; but  his  doctrines  were  sufficiently  startling. 
We  also  find  him,  on  the  strength  of  that  success,  soliciting  per- 
mission of  the  Oxford  Senate  to  profess  openly.  With  his  usual 
arrogance,  he  styles  himself,  in  this  address,  as  a “ doctor  of  a 
more  perfect  theology,  and  professor  of  a purer  wisdom,”  than 
was  there  taught.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  permission  was 
granted ; probably  because  he  had  the  patronage  of  Elizabeth. 
He  lectured  on  cosmology,  and  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul ; 
a doctrine  which  he  maintained,  not  upon  the  principles  of  Ar- 
istotle, but  upon  those  of  the  Neo-Platonists,  who  regarded  this 
life  as  a brief  struggle,  a sort  of  agony  of  death,  through  which 
the  soul  must  pass  ere  it  attains  to  the  splendor  of  existence  in 

“ Andate  in  Oxonia  e fatevi  raccontar  le  cose  intravenute  al  Nolano  quan- 
do  pubblicamente  disputo  con  que’  dottori  in  teologia  in  presenza  del  Prin- 
cipe Alasco  Polacco,  et  altri  de  la  nobilita  inglese  1 Fatevi  dire  come  si  sapea 
rispondere  a gli  argomenti,  come  restb  per  quindici  sillogismi  qnindici  volte 
qual  piilcino  entro  la  stoppa  quel  povero  dottor,  che  come  il  corifeo  de  1’  ao- 
cademia  ne  puosero  avanti  in  questa  grave  occasione ! Fatevi  dire  con  quanta 
incivility  e discortesia  procedea  quel  porco,  e con  quanta  pazienza  et  umanity 
quell’  altro,  che  in  fatto  mostrava  essere  Napoletano  nato  et  allevato  sotto  pii 
benigno  cielo !” — La  Cena  de  le  Ceneri ; 0pp.  Ital.  ii.  17^ 


I 


GIOEDANO  BKTJNO. 


383 


the  eternal  and  universal  life.  In  the  deep  unquenchable  desire 
which  is  within  us  to  unite  ourselves  with  God,  and  to  quit  this 
miserable  sphere  for  the  glorious  regions  of  eternity,  is  the  writ- 
ten conviction  of  our  future  existence.  No  doubt  he  preached 
this  doctrine  with  stirring  eloquence ; but  it  must  have  sounded 
very  heterodox  in  the  ears  of  that  wise  conclave — styled  by 
Bruno  “ a constellation  of  pedants,  whose  ignorance,  presump- 
tion, and  rustic  rudeness  would  have  exhausted  the  patience  of 
Job” — and  they  soon  put  an  end  to  his  lectures.* 

We  have  already  intimated  the  protection  which  Elizabeth 
accorded  him,  and  which  he  repaid  by  adulation,  extravagant 
enough,  but  which  was  then  the  current  style  in  speaking  of 
royalty ; and  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  this  praise  of  a 
Protestant  Queen  was  not  among  the  least  of  his  crimes  in  the 
eyes  of  his  accusers.  Still,  even  Elizabeth  could  not  protect  a 
heretic ; and  Bruno’s  audacious  eloquence  roused  such  opposition, 
that  he  was  forced  to  quit  England.  He  returned  to  Paris,  once 
more  to  court  the  favor  of  the  Quartier  Latin.  He  obtained 
permission  to  open  a public  disputation  on  the  physics  of  Aris- 
totle. For  three  successive  days  did  this  dispute  continue,  in 
which  the  great  questions  of  nature,  the  universe,  and  the  rota- 
tion of  the  earth,  were  discussed.  Bruno  had  thrown  aside  the 
veil,  and  presented  his  opinions  naked  to  the  gaze.  His  impet- 
uous onslaught  upon  established  opinions,  produced  the  natural 
result : he  was  forced  again  to  fly. 

We  next  And  him  in  Germany,  carrying  the  spirit  of  innova- 
tion into  its  august  universities.  In  July,  1586,  he  matriculated 
as  theologice  doctor  Romanensis.,  in  the  university  of  Marburg,  in 
Hesse ; but  permission  to  teach  philosophy  was  refused  him  ob 
arduas  causas.  Whereupon  he  insulted  the  Rector  in  his  own 
house,  created  a disturbance,  and  insisted  that  his  name  should 
be  struck  off  from  the  list  of  members  of  the  University.  Ha 
set  off  for  Wurtemberg.  His  reception  in  this  centre  of  Luther- 


* Vide  Cena  de  le  Ceneri. 


384 


FROM  PROCLTJS  TO  BACON. 


anism  was  so  gratifying,  that  he  styled  Wiirtemberg  the  Athens 
of  Germany.  ‘‘ Your  justice,”  he  writes  to  the  Senate,  “has  re- 
fused to  listen  to  the  insinuations  circulated  against  my  character 
and  my  opinions.  You  Lave,  with  admirable  impartiality,  per- 
mitted me  to  attack  with  vehemence  that  philosophy  of  Aristotle 
which  you  prize  so  highly.”  For  two  years  did  he  teach  there 
with  noisy  popularity,  yet  on  the  whole  with  tolerable  prudence, 
in  not  speaking  against  the  peculiar  views  of  Lutheranism.  He 
even  undertook  a defence  of  Satan  ; but  whether  in  that  spirit 
of  pity  which  moved  Burns,  or  whether  in  the  spirit  of  buffoon- 
ery which  delights  to  play  with  awful  subjects,  we  have  no  means 
of  ascertaining.  He  did  not  offend  his  audience,  in  whatever 
spirit  he  treated  the  subject. 

Here,  then,  in  Wiirtemberg,  with  admiring  audiences  and  free 
scope  for  discussion,  one  might  fancy  he  would  be  at  rest.  Why 
should  he  leave  so  enviable  a position  ? Simply  because  he  was 
not  a man  to  rest  in  ease  and  quiet.  He  was  possessed  with  the 
spirit  of  a reformer,  and  this  urged  him  to  carry  his  doctrines 
into  other  cities.  Characteristic  of  his  audacity  is  the  next  step 
he  took.  From  Wiirtemberg  he  went  to  Prague ; from  the  cen- 
tre of  Lutheranism  to  the  centre  of  Catholicism  ! In  this  he  had 
reckoned  too  much  on  his  own  powers.  He  met  with  neither 
sympathy  nor  support  in  Prague.  He  then  passed  on  to  Helm- 
stadt,  where  his  fame  having  preceded  him,  the  Duke  of  Bruns- 
wick conferred  upon  him  the  honorable  charge  of  educating  the 
hereditary  Duke.  Here  again,  if  he  had  consented  to  remain 
quiet,  he  might  have  been  what  the  world  calls  “ successful 
but  he  was  troubled  with  convictions — things  so  impedimental  to 
success ! — and  these  drew  down  upon  him  a sentence  of  excom- 
munication. He  justified  himself,  indeed,  and  the  sentence  was 
removed ; but  he  was  not  suffered  to  remain  in  Helmstadt ; so 
he  passed  to  Frankfort,  and  there  in  quiet,  brief  retirement,  pub- 
lished three  of  his  Latin  works.  Here  a blank  occurs  in  his  an- 
nals. When  next  we  hear  of  him  he  is  at  Padua. 

After  an  absence  of  ten  years,  the  wanderer  returns  to  Italv. 


GIOKDANO  BRUNO. 


385 


lu  his  restless  course,  he  has  traversed  Switzerland,  France,  Eng> 
land,  and  Germany;  his  hand  against  every  man,  and  every 
man’s  hand  against  him.  Heretic  and  innovator,  he  has  irritated 
the  clergy  without  securing  the  protection  of  philosophers.  He 
has  sought  no  protection  but  that  of  truth.  That  now  he  should 
choose  Padua  above  all  places,  must  ever  excite  our  astonish- 
ment. Padua,  where  Aristotle  reigns  supreme ! Padua,  which 
is  overshadowed  by  Venice  and  the  Inquisition  ! Was  he  weary 
of  life,  that  he  thus  marched  into  the  camp  of  his  enemy  ? or 
did  he  rely  on  the  force  of  his  convictions  and  the  vigor  of  his 
eloquence  to  triumph  even  in  Padua  ? None  can  say.  He  came 
— he  taught — he  fled.  Venice  received  him, — but  it  was  in  her 
terrible  prison.  Lovers  of  coincidences  will  And  a piquant  illus- 
tration in  the  fact,  that  at  the  very  moment  when  Bruno  was 
thrown  into  prison,  Galileo  opened  his  course  of  mathematics  at 
Padua ; and  the  six  years  in  which  Galileo  occupied  that  mathe- 
matical chair,  were  the  six  yeans  Bruno  spent  in  miserable  captivity. 

Bruno’s  arrest  was  no  sooner  eflected,  than  intimation  of  it 
was  sent  to  the  Grand  Inquisitor  San  Severina,  at  Rome,  who 
ordered  that  the  prisoner  should  be  sent  to  him,  under  es*cort,  on 
the  first  opportunity.  Thomas  Morosini  presented  himself  before 
the  Savi  of  Venice,  and  demanded,  in  the  name  of  his  Emi- 
nence, that  Bruno  should  be  delivered  up  to  him.  “ That  man,” 
said  he,  “ is  not  only  a heretic,  but  an  heresiarch.  He  has  writ- 
ten works  in  which  he  highly  lauds  the  Queen  of  England  and  other 
heretical  princes.  He  has  written  diverse  things  touching  religion, 
which  are  contrary  to  the  faith.”  The  Savi,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  declined  to  give  up  their  prisoner,  saying  the  matter  was 
too  important  for  them  to  take  a sudden  resolution.  Was  this 
mercy?  Was  it  cnielty?  In  efiect,  it  was  cruelty;  for  Bruno 
languished  six  years  in  the  prisons  of  Venice,  and  only  quitted 
them  to  perish  at  the  stake.  Six  long  years  of  captivity — worse 
than  any  death.  To  one  so  ardent,  solitude  itself  was  punishment. 
He  wanted  to  be  among  men,  to  combat,  to  argue,  to  live ; and 
he  was  condemned  to  the  fearful  solitudes  of  that  prison,  without 


386 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


books,  without  paper,  without  friends.  Such  was  the  repose  which 
the  weary  wanderer  found  on  his  native  soil. 

His  prison  doors  were  at  length  opened,  and  he  was  removed 
to  Rome,  there  to  undergo  a tedious  • and  fruitless  examination. 
Of  what  use  was  it  to  call  upon  him  to  retract  his  opinions? 
The  attempt  to  convince  him  was  more  rational ; but  it  failed. 
The  tiresome  debate  was  needlessly  prolonged.  Finding  him 
insensible  to  their  threats  and  to  their  logic,  they  brought  him, 
on  the  9th  of  February,  to  the  palace  of  San  Severino ; and 
there,  in  the  presence  of  the  cardinals  and  most  illustrious  theo- 
logians, he  was  forced  to  kneel  and  receive  the  sentence  of  ex- 
communication.  That  sentence  passed,  he  was  handed  over  tc 
the  secular  authorities,  with  a recommendation  of  a “punish- 
ment as  merciful  as  possible,  and  without  effusion  of  blood” — the 
ut  quam  dementis sim^  et  citra,  sanguinis  effusionem  puniretur — 
the  atrocious  formula  for  burning  alive. 

Calm  and  dignified  was  the  bearing  of  the  victim  during  the 
whole  of  this  scene.  It  impressed  even  his  persecutors.  On 
hearing  his  sentence,  one  phrase  alone  disturbed  the  unalterable 
serenity  of  his  demeanor.  Raising  his  head  with  haughty  supe- 
riority, he  said,  “I  suspect  you  pronounce  this  sentence  with 
more  fear  than  I receive  it.”  A delay  of  one  week  was  accorded 
to  him,  in  the  expectation  that  fear  might  force  a retractation; 
but  the  week  expired,  and  Bruno  remained  immovable.  He  per- 
ished at  the  stake ; but  he  died  in  the  martyr  spirit,  self-sus- 
tained and  silent,  welcoming  death  as  the  appointed  passage  to 
a higher  life. 

“ Fendo  i cieli  e a 1’  infinite  m’  ergo.” 

Bruno  perished,  the  victim  of  intolerance.  It  is  impossible  to 
read  of  such  a punishment  without  strong  indignation  and  dis- 
gust. There  is,  indeed,  no  page  in  the  annals  of  mankind  which 
we  would  more  willingly  blot  out,  than  those  upon  which  fanat- 
icism has  written  its  bloody  history.  Frivolous  as  have  often 
been  the  pretexts  for  shedding  blood,  none  are  more  abhorrent 
to  us  than  those  founded  upon  religious  differences.  Surely  the 


GIORDANO  BRUNO. 


387 


question  of  I’eligion  is  awful  enough  in  itself!  Men  have  the 
deepest  possible  interest  in  ascertaining  the  truth  of  it ; and  if 
they  cannot  read  the  problem  aright  by  the  light  of  their  own 
convictions,  will  it  be  made  more  legible  by  the  light  of  an  auto- 
da-fe  ? Tolerance  is  still  far  from  being  a general  virtue ; but 
what  scenes  of  struggle,  of  violence,  and  of  persecution,  has  the 
world  passed  through,  before  even  the  present  modicum  of  tol- 
erance could  he  gained  1 In  the  sixteenth  century,  free  thought 
was  a crime.  The  wisest  men  were  bitterly  intolerant;  the 
mildest,  cruel,  ilampanella  tells  us  that  he  was  fifty  times  im- 
prisoned, and  seven  times  put  to  the  torture,  for  daring  to  think 
otherwise  than  those  in  power.  It  was,  indeed,  the  age  of  per- 
secution. That  which  made  it  so  bloody,  was  the  vehemence  of 
the  struggle  between  the  old  world  and  the  new — between 
thought  and  established  dogma — between  science  and  tradition. 
In  every  part  of  Europe — in  Rome  itself — men  uprose  to  utter 
their  new  doctrines,  and  to  shake  off  the  chains  which  enslaved 
human  intellect.  It  was  the  first  great  crisis  in  modern  history, 
and  we  read  its  progress  by  the  bonfires  lighted  in  every  town. 
The  glare  of  the  stake  reddened  a sky  illumined  by  the  fair  au- 
roral light  of  Science. 

Did  Bruno  deserve  to  die  ? According  to  the  notions  of  that 
age,  he  certainly  did  ; though  historians  have,  singularly  enough, 
mzzled  themselves  in  the  search  after  an  adequate  motive  for  so 
severe  a punishment.  He  had  praised  heretical  princes ; he  had 
reasoned  philosophically  on  matters  of  faith — properly  the  sub- 
jects of  theology;  he  had  proclaimed  liberty  of  thought,  and  in- 
vestigation ; he  had  disputed  the  infallibility  of  the  Church  in 
science ; he  had  propagated  such  heresies  as  the  rotation  of  the 
earth,  and  the  infinity  of  worlds ; he  had  refused  to  attend  Mass ; 
he  had  repeated  many  bufiboneries  then  circulating,  which  threw 
contempt  upon  sacred  things ; finally,  he  had  taught  a system 
of  Pantheism,  which  was  altogether  opposed  to  Christianit) . 
He  had  done  all  this ; and  whoever  knows  the  sixteenth  century 
will  see  that  such  an  innovator  had  no  chance  of  escape.  Ac- 


388 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACON. 


coi’diugly,  the  flames  (as  Scioppius  sarcastically  wrote  in  describ- 
ing the  execution  to  a friend)  “ carried  him  to  those  worlds  which 
he  imagined.” 

“As  men  die,  so  they  walk  among  posterity,”  is  the  felicitous' 
remark  of  Monckton  Milnes ; and  Bruno,  like  many  other  men,  is 
better  remembered  for  his  death  than  for  any  thing  he  did  while 
living.  The  flames  which  consumed  his  body  have  embalmed 
his  name.  He  knew  it  would  be  so — “ La  morte  d’  un  secolo  fa 
vivo  in  tutti  gli  altri.” 

Considered  as  a system  of  philosophy,  we  cannot  hesitate  in 
saying  that  Bruno’s  has  only  an  historical,  not  an  intrinsic  value. 
Its  condemnation  is  written  in  the  fact  of  its  neglect.  But  taken 
historically,  his  works  are  very  curious,  and  still  more  so  when 
we  read  them  with  a biographical  interest ; for  they  not  only 
illustrate  the  epoch,  but  exhibit  the  man — exhibit  his  impetuos- 
ity, recklessness,  vanity,  imagination,  buffoonery,  his  thoroughly 
Neapolitan  character,  and  his  sincere  love  of  truth.  Those  who 
wish  to  see  grave  subjects  treated  with  dignity,  will  object  to  the 
license  he  allows  himself,  and  will  have  no  tolerance  for  the  bad 
taste  he  so  often  displays.  But  we  should  rather  look  upon  these 
works  as  the  rapid  productions  of  a restless  athlete — as  the  im- 
provisations of  a full,  ardent,  but  irregular  mind,  in  an  age  when 
taste  was  less  fastidious  than  it  has  since  become.  If  Bruno 
mingled  bufiboneries  and  obscenities  with  grave  and  weighty 
topics,  he  therein  only  follows  the  general  license  of  that  age ; 
and  we  must  extend  to  him  the  same  forgiveness  as  to  Bembo, 
Ariosto,  Tansillo,  and  the  rest.  Plato  himself  is  not  wholly  ex 
empt  from  the  same  defect. 

In  adopting  the  form  of  dialogue,  Bruno  also  followed  the 
taste  of  his  age.  It  is  a form  eminently  suited  to  polemical  sub- 
jects ; and  all  his  works  were  polemical.  It  enabled  him  to  rid- 
icule by  turns  the  pedants,  philosophers,  and  theologians ; and 
to  enunciate  certain  doctrines  which  even  his  temerity  would 
have  shrunk  from,  had  he  not  been  able  to  place  them  in  the 
mouth  of  another.  He  makes  his  dialogues  far  more  entertain- 


GIOEDAJSrO  BKUNO. 


389 


jug  than  works  of  metaphysics  usually  are ; and  this  he  does  by 
digressions,  by  ridicule,  by  eloquence,  and  a liberal  introduction 
of  sonnets.  Sometimes  his  very  vivacity  becomes  wearisome. 
The  reader  is  stunned  and  bewildered  by  the  remorseless  torrent 
of  substantives  and  epithets  which  pours  from  his  too  prolific 
pen.  There  is  nobody  to  lival  him,  but  Eabelais,  in  this  flux  of 
words.*  His  great  butts  are  the  clergy,  and  the  philosophers. 
He  reproaches  the  former  with  ignorance,  avarice,  hypocrisy,  and 
the  desire  to  stifle  inquiry  and  prolong  the  reign  of  ignorance. 
The  philosophers  he  reproaches  with  blind  adherence  to  author- 
ity, with  stupid  reverence  for  Aristotle  and  Ptolemy,  and  with 
slavish  imitation  of  antiquity.  It  should  be  observed  that  he 
does  not  so  much  decry  Aristotle,  as  the  ido.atry  of  Aristotle.f 
Against  the  pedantry  of  that  pedantic  age  he  is  always  hurling 
his  thunders.  “ If,”  says  he,  in  one  place,  characterizing  the 
pedant,  “ he  laughs,  he  calls  himself  Democritus ; if  he  weeps,  it 
is  with  Heraclitus ; when  he  argues,  he  is  Aristotle ; when  he 
combines  chimeras,  he  is  Plato ; when  he  stutters,  he  is  Demos- 
thenes.” That  Bruno’s  scorn  sprang  from  no  misology,  his  own 
varied  erudition  proves.  But  while  he  studied  the  ancients  to 
extract  from  them  such  eternal  truths  as  were  buried  amidst  a 
mass  of  error,  they,  the  pedants,  only  studied  how  to  deck  them- 
selves in  borrowed  plumes. 

Turning  from  manner  to  matter,  we  must  assign  to  Bruno  a 
place  in  the  history  of  philosophy,  as  a successor  of  the  Neo- 
Platonists,  and  the  precursor  of  Spinoza,  Descartes,  Leibnitz,  and 

* To  give  the  reader  a taste  of  this  quality,  we  will  cite  a sentence  from 
the  dedicatory  epistle  to  Gli  Eroici  Furori  ; “ Che  spettacolo,  o Dio  buono ! 
piu  vile  e ignobile  pub  presentarsi  ad  un  oochio  di  terso  sentimento,  che  nn 
uomo  cogitabundo,  afflitto,  tormentato,  triste,  inaninconioso,  per  divenir  or 
freddo,  or  caldo,  or  fervente,  or  tremante,  or  pallido,  or  rosso,  or  in  mina  di 
perplesso,  or  in  atto  dirisoluto,  un,  che  spende  il  miglior  intervallo  di  tempo 
destillando  1’  elixir  del  cervello  con  mettere  soritto  e sigillar  in  pubbliei  mon- 
umenti,  quelle  continue  torture,  que’  gravi  tormenti,  que’  razionali  discorsi, 
que’  fatuosi  pensieri,  e quell!  amarissimi  studi,  destinati  sotto  la  tirannida 
d’  una  indegna  imbeeille  stolta  e sozza  sporcaria?”  Thus  it  continues  foi 
some  fifty  lines  more!—0/)/i.  Ital.  ii.  299. 

t Vide  Opp.  Ital.  ii.  67,  where  this  is  explicitly  stated. 


390 


FKOM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACON. 


Sclielliug.  That  Spinoza  and  Descartes  were  actually  conversant 
with  the  writing’s  of  Giordano  Bruno,  does  not  distinctly  appear. 
Yet  it  is  not  to  be  disputed  that  Bruno  anticipated  Spinoza 
in  his  conception  of  the  immanence  of  the  Deity,  in  his  famous 
natura  naturans  and  natura  naturata,  and  in  his  pantheistic 
theory  of  evolution.  He  also  anticipated  Descartes’  famous  cri- 
terium  of  truth,  viz.  that  whatever  is  clear  and  evident  to  the 
mind,  and  does  not  admit  of  contradiction,  must  be  true ; and  in 
his  proclamation  of  Doubt  as  opposed  to  Authority,  he  thus  in- 
sists upon  Doubt  as  the  starting-point : “ Chi  vuol  perfettamente 
giudicare  deve  saper  spogliarsi  de  la  consuetudine  di  credere,  deve 
V una  e V altre  contradittoria  esistimare  egualmente  possibile,  e 
dismettere  a fatto  quelV  affezione  di  cui  e imbibeto  da  nativitd."* 
Leibnitz  was  avowedly  acquainted  with  Bruno’s  works,  and  de- 
rived therefrom  his  theoi'y  of  monads.  Schelling  makes  no  secret 
of  his  obligations. 

There  is  another  merit  in  Bruno  which  should  not  be  over- 
looked, that,  namely,  of  giving  a strong  impulse  to  the  study  of 
Nature.  Occupied  with  Syllogisms  about  entities  and  quiddities, 
the  philosophy  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  missed  the  great  truth 
that  “ man  is  the  minister  and  interpreter  of  nature.”  Philoso- 
phy taught  that  the  interpretation  could  proceed  only  from 
within  ; that  men  were  to  look  into  their  own  minds  to  analyze, 
subdivide,  and  classify  their  own  ideas,  instead  of  looking  forth 
into  Nature,  and  patiently  observing  her  processes. j-  Bruno  was 
one  of  the  first  to  call  men  out  into  the  free  air.  With  his  poet- 
ical instinct,  he  naturally  looked  to  Nature  as  the  great  book  for 
man  to  read.  He  deified  Nature  ; and  looked  upon  the  Universe 
as  the  garment  of  God,  as  the  incarnation  of  the  divine  activity. 
Let  not  this  be  misunderstood,  however.  If  Bruno  embraced 


* De  I'  Infinite  Zfniverso  e Mondi;  0pp.  Ital.  ii.  84. 

+ It  is  of  them  Telesio  energetically  says  : “Sed  veluti  cum  Deo  de  sapi- 
entia  contendentes  deeertantesque,  mundi  ipsius  prinoipiaet  causas ratione  in- 
quirere  ansi,  et  qua;  non  invenerant,  inventa  ea  sibi  esse  existimantes,  volen- 
tesque,  veluti  suo  arbitratu,  mundnm  affluxere.” — De  Rerum  Natura  in 
Praam. 


GIOEDANO  BEUNO. 


391 


ilie  Copernican  theory,  and  combated  the  general  physics  of  his 
day,  he  is  not,  on  that  account,  to  be  mistaken  for  a man  of  sci- 
entific Method.  He  espoused  the  correct  view  of  the  earth’s 
sphericity  and  rotation ; but  he  did  so  on  the  faith  of  his  meta- 
physical theories,  not  on  rigorous  induction. 

Bruno’s  creed  was  Pantheism.  God  was  the  Infinite  Intelli- 
gence, the  Cause  of  Causes,  the  Principle  of  all  life  and  mind ; 
the  great  Activity,  whose  action  we  name  the  Universe.  But 
God  did  not  create  the  universe ; he  informed  it  with  life — with 
being.  He  is  the  universe ; but  only  as  the  cause  is  the  effect, 
sustaining  it,  causing  it,  but  not  limited  by  it.  He  is  self-exist- 
ing, yet  so  essentially  active  as  incessantly  to  manifest  himself  as 
a Cause.  Between  the  supreme  Being  and  the  inferior  beings 
dependent  upon  him,  there  is  this  distinction  : He  is  absolntely 
simple,  without  parts.  He  is  one  whole,  identical  and  universal ; 
whereas  the  others  are  mere  individual  parts,  distinct  from  the 
great  Whole.  Above  and  beyond  the  visible  universe  there  is 
an  Infinite  Invisible, — an  immovable,  unalterable  Identity,  which 
rules  over  all  diversity.  This  Being  of  Beings,  this  Unity  of 
Unities,  is  God : “ Deus  est  monadum  monas,  nempe  entinm 
entitas.” 

Bruno  says,  that  although  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  nature 
separated  from  God,  we  can  conceive  God  separated  from  nature. 
The  infinite  Being  is  the  essential  centre  and  substance  of  the 
universe,  but  he  is  above  the  essence  and  substance  of  all  things : 
he  is  superessentialis,  supersubstantialis.  Thus  we  cannot  con- 
ceive a thought  independent  of  a mind,  but  we  can  conceive  a 
mind  apart  from  any  one  thought.  The  universe  is  a thought 
of  God’s  mind — nay  more,  it  is  the  infinite  activity  of  his  mind. 
To  suppose  the  world  fiuite  is  to  limit  his  power.  “ Wherefore 
should  we  imagine  that  the  Divine  activity  (la  divina  efficacia) 
is  idle  ? Wherefore  should  we  say  that  the  Divine  goodness, 
which  can  communicate  itself  ad  infinitum,  and  infinitely  difi’use 
tself,  is  willing  to  restrict  itself?  Why  should  his  infinite  capa- 
city be  frustrated — defrauded  of  its  possibility  to  create  infinite 


392 


FROM  PROCLUS  TO  BACOFT. 


worlds  ? And  why  should  we  deface  the  excellence  of  the  Di 
vine  image,  which  should  rather  reflect  itself  in  an  infinite  mirror 
as  his  nature  is  infinite  and  immense  ?”* 

Bruno  admits  the  existence  of  only  one  intelligence,  and  that 
is  God.  Est  Ecus  in  nobis.  This  intelligence,  which  is  perfect 
in  God,  is  less  perfect  in  inferior  spirits ; still  less  so  in  man ; 
more  and  more  imperfect  in  the  lower  gradations  of  created  be- 
ings. But  all  these  differences  are  differences  of  degree,  not  of 
kind.  The  inferior  order  of  beings  do  not  understand  them- 
selves, but  they  have  a sort  of  language.  In  the  superior  orders 
of  beings,  intelligence  arrives  at  the  point  of  self-consciousness — 
they  understand  themselves,  and  those  below  them.  Man,  who 
occupies  the  middle  position  in  the  hierarchy  of  creation,  is  ca- 
pable of  contemplating  every  phasis  of  life.  He  sees  God  above 
him — he  sees  around  him  traces  of  the  divine  activity.  These 
ti'aces,  which  attest  the  immutable  order  of  the  universe,  constitute 
the  soul  of  the  world.  To  collect  them,  and  connect  them  with 
the  Being  whence  they  issue,  is  the  noblest  function  of  the  human 
mind.  Bruno  further  teaches  that,  in  proportion  as  man  labors 
in  this  direction,  he  discovers  that  these  traces,  spread  abroad  in 
nature,  do  not  differ  from  the  which  exist  in  his  own  mind.f 
He  thus  arrives  at  the  perception  of  the  identity  between  the 
soul  of  the  world,  and  his  own  soul,  both  as  reflections  of  the  Di- 
vine intelligence.  He  is  thus  led  to  perceive  the  identity  of 
Subject  and  Object,  of  Thought  and  Being. 

Such  is  the  faint  outline  of  a doctrine,  to  preach  which,  Bruno 
became  a homeless  wanderer  and  a martyr;  as  he  loftily  says, 
“ Con  questa  filosofia  1’  anima  mi  s’  aggrandisce,  e mi  si  magni- 
jica  V intellelto."  If  not  original,  this  doctrine  has  at  any  rate 
the  merit  of  poetical  grandeur.  In  it  deep  thoughts,  wrestling 

* De  V Infirdto ; 0pp.  Ital.  ii.  2i. 

+ “ Elp.  : What  is  the  purpose  of  the  senses  ? — Fil.  : Solely  to  excite  the 
reason  ; to  indicate  the  truth,  but  not  to  judge  of  it.  Truth  is  in  the  sensi- 
ble object  as  in  a mirror  ; in  the  reason,  as  a matter  of  argument ; in  the 
intellect,  as  a principle  and  conclusion ; but  in  the  mind  it  has  its  true  and 
proper  form.” — De  I’  Infirdto,  p.  18. 


GIORDANO  BRUNO. 


393 


with  imperfect  language,  do  get  some  sort  of  utterance.  As  a 
system,  it  is  more  imaginative  than  logical ; but  to  many  minds 
It  would  be  all  the  more  acceptable  on  that  account.  Coleridge 
used  to  say,  and  with  truth,  that  imagination  was  the  greatest 
faculty  of  the  philosopher ; and  Bruno  said,  “ Philosophi  sunt 
quodammodo  pictures  atque  poetse.  . . . Non  est  philosophus 
nisi  fingit  et  pingit.”  Little  as  the  dull  man  of  science  may  be 
aware  of  it,  the  great  faculty  of  imagination  is  indispensable  even 
to  his  science : it  is  the  great  telescope  with  which  we  look  into 
the  infinite.  But  in  metaphysics  imagination  plays  a still  greater 
part;  it  there  reigns  as  a queen. 

The  works  of  Bruno  are  mostly  in  Italian,  Latin  having  been 
happily  reserved  by  him  for  the  logical  treatises.  The  volumes 
which  we  owe  to  the  honorable  diligence  and  love  of  philosophy 
of  Adolph  Wagner,  open  with  the  comedy,  17  Candelajo,  which 
was  adapted  to  the  French  stage  under  the  title  of  Boniface  le 
Pedant,  from  which  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  took  his  Pedant  Joue^ 
— a piece  which  in  its  turn  was  plundered  by  Moliere,  who,  with 
charming  wit  and  candor,  avows  it : “ Ces  deux  scenes  (in  Cy- 
rano) etaient  bonnes ; elles  m’appartenaient  de  plein  droit ; on 
reprend  son  bien  partout  oil  on  le  trouveP*  According  to 


* This  is,  perhaps,  the  wittiest  of  all  the  variations  of  the  “ pereant  male 
qui  ante  nos  nostra  dixissent.”  The  Chevalier  D’Aceilly’s  version  is  worth 
citing ; 

“ Dis-je  qiielque  chose  assez  belle  ? 

L’antiquite  tout  en  cervelle 
Prdtend  I’avoir  dite  avant  moi. 

C’est  une  plaisante  donzelle  ! 

(Jue  ne  venait-elle  apres  moi  ? 

J’aurais  dit  la  chose  avant  elle !” 

While  on  this  subject,  we  cannot  resist  Piron’s  lines; 

“ Us  ont  dit,  il  est  vrai,  presque  tout  ce  qu’on  pense. 

Leurs  ecrits  sont  des  vols  qu’ils  nous  ont  faits  d’avance. 

Mais  le  remede  est  simple  ; il  faut  faire  comme  eux, 

Us  nous  ont  derobes  ; derobons  nos  neveux. 

Un  demon  triomphant  m’eleve  a cet  emploi : 

Malheur  aux  ecrivains  qui  viendront  apres  moi !” 

La  Metromanu, 


894 


FROM  PKOCLUS  TO  BACOlSr. 


Charles  Nodier,  Moliere  was  indebted  to  Bruno  for  several 
scenes;  but  it  is  difficult  to  settle  questions  of  plagiarism.  Bruno’s 
comedy  is  long,  full  of  absurd  incidents  and  Neapolitan  buflFoon- 
ery,  and  might  have  suggested  a good  deal  to  such  a prolific 
mind  as  Moliere’s.  In  it  he  has  exhibited  “ the  amorousness  of 
one  old  man  named  Bonifacio,  the  sordid  avarice  of  another 
named  Bartolomeo,  and  the  pedantry,  not  less  sordid,  of  a third 
named  Manfurio.”  Ladies  of  vacillating  virtue,  soldiers,  sailors, 
and  scamps  concert  together  to  deceive  these  three  old  men,  and 
wring  money  from  their  sensuality,  their  avarice,  and  their  super- 
stition. Bonifacio,  desperately  in  love  with  Vittoria,  is  never- 
theless alarmed  at  the  enormous  expense  necessary  to  make  his 
addresses  acceptable.  He  had  recourse  to  Scaramure,  a reputed 
magician,  who  sells  him  a wax  figure,  which  he  is  to  melt,  and 
thus  melt  the  obdurate  heart  of  his  fair  one.  After  a succession 
of  disasters,  Bonifacio  is  seized  by  pretended  police,  who  force 
from  him  a heavy  ransom.  Bartolomeo  becomes  the  dupe  of 
Cencio,  an  impostor,  who  sells  him  a receipt  for  making  gold. 
Manfurio,  the  pedant,  is  beaten,  robbed,  and  ridiculed  through- 
out. The  senkralism  and  niggardliness  of  Bonifacio,  and  the 
pedantry  of  Manfurio,  are  hit  oflf  with  true  comic  spirit ; and  the 
dialogue,  though  rambling  and  diflfuse,  is  enlivened  by  lazzi — not 
always  the  most  decent,  it  is  true — and  crowded  with  proverbs. 
Dramatic  art  there  is  none ; the  persons  come  on  and  talk ; they 
are  succeeded  by  fresh  actors,  who,  having  talked,  also  retire  to 
give  place  to  others.  The  whole  play  leaves  a very  confused  im- 
pression. The  hits  at  alchemy  and  pedantry  were,  doubtless, 
highly  relished  in  those  days. 

It  is  very  strange  to  pass  from  this  comedy  to  the  work  which 
succeeds  it  in  Wagner’s  edition.  La  Cena  de  le  Ceneri.  In  five 
dialogues  he  combats  the  hypothesis  of  the  world’s  immobility ; 
proclaims  the  infinity  of  the  universe,  and  warns  us  against  seek- 
ing its  centre  or  circumference.  He  enlarges  on  the  difference 
between  appearances  and  reality  in  celestial  phenomena;  argues 
that  our  globe  is  made  of  the  same  substance  as  the  other  plan- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO. 


395 


ets,  and  that  every  thing  which  is,  is  living,  so  that  the  world 
may  be  likened  to  a huge  animal.*  In  this  work  he  also  an- 
swers his  objectors,  who  bring  against  his  system  the  authority 
of  Scripture,  exactly  in  the  same  way  as  modern  geologists  an- 
swer the  same  objection,  viz.  by  declaring  that  the  revelation  in 
the  Bible  was  a moral  not  a physical  revelation.  It  did  not  pre- 
tend to  teach  science,  but,  on  the  contrary,  adopted  ordinary 
notions,  and  expressed  itself  in  the  language  intelligible  to  the 
vulgar.f  In  this  work  there  are  some  digressions  more  than 
usually  interesting  to  us,  because  they  refer  to  the  social  condi 
tion  of  England  during  Elizabeth’s  reign. 

The  two  works.  Be  la  Causa  and  Be  V Infinito,  contain  the 
most  matured  and  connected  exposition  of  his  philosophical  opin- 
ions. As  our  space  will  not  admit  of  an  analysis,  we  must  refer 
to  that  amply  given  by  M.  Bartholmess.J  The  Spaccio  de  la 
Bestia  Trionfante  is  the  most  celebrated  of  all  his  writings.  It 
was  translated  by  Toland,  in  1713,  who  printed  only  a very  few 
copies,  as  if  wishing  it  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  only  a few  choice 
readers.  The  very  title  has  been  a sad  puzzle  to  the  world,  and 
has  led  to  the  strangest  suppositions.  The  “ Triumphant  Beast,” 
which  Bruno  undertakes  to  expel,  is  none  other  than  this ; an- 
cient astronomy  disfigured  the  heavens  with  animals  as  constel- 
jatioDs,  and  under  guise  of  expelling  these,  he  attacks  the  great 
beast  (superstition)  whose  predominance  causes  men  to  believe 
that  the  stars  influence  human  affairs.  In  his  Cabala  del  Ca- 
vallo  Pegaseo,  he  sarcastically  calls  the  ass  “ la  bestia  trionfante 
viva,”  and  indites  a sonnet  in  praise  of  that  respectable  quad- 
ruped : 

* An  idea  borrowed  from  Plato,  who,  in  the  Timceus,  says,  OSruj  olv  in 
Kard  \oybv  rbv  UKdra  iei  Myecv  rdi'ie  rov  Kdafiov  ^inov  evvovv  T€  Tjj 

ha  Tiv  Tov  dcoV  ycvcaBat  irpivoiar. — p.  26,  ed.  Bekker.  Compare  also  Politicus, 
p.  2»8.  Bruno  may  have  taken  this  directly  from  Plato,  or  he  might  have 
learned  it  from  the  work  of  his  countryman,  Telesio,  De  Rerum  Naturd. 

+ " Second©  il  senso  volgare  et  ordinario  modo  di  comprendere  e parlare.  ’ 
The  whole  of  the  early  portion  of  Dialogue  4 (in  which  this  distinction  is 
maintained)  is  worth  consulting. — Opere,  i.  172  sq. 

t Vol.  ii.  pp.  128-154. 


396 


FKOM  PROCLL'S  TO  BACON. 


“ Oh  sant’  asinita,  sant’  ignoranza, 

Santa  stoltizia,  e pia  divozioue, 

Qual  sola  puoi  far  1’  anima  si  Duone 

Cli’  uman  ingegno  e studio  non  I’avanzal”  etc. 

The  Spaccio  is  an  attack  upon  the  superstitions  of  the  day, — a 
war  against  ignorance,  and  “ that  orthodoxy  'without  morality, 
and  without  belief,  which  is  the  ruin  of  all  justice  and  virtue.” 
Morality,  Bruno  fancifully  calls  “the  astronomy  of  the  heart;” 
but  did  not  even  Bacon  call  it  “the  Georgies  of  the  mind?” 
The  Spaccio  is  a strange  medley  of  learning,  imagination,  and 
buffoonery ; and  on  the  whole,  perhaps  the  most  tiresome  of  all 
his  writings.  M.  Bartholmess,  whose  admiration  for  Bruno 
greatly  exceeds  our  own,  says  of  it:  “The  mythology  and  sym- 
bolism of  the  ancients  is  there  employed  with  as  much  tact  as 
erudition.  The  fiction  that  the  modern  world  is  still  governed 
by  Jupiter  and  the  court  of  Olympus,  the  mixture  of  reminis- 
cences of  chivalry,  and  the  marvels  of  the  middle  ages,  with  the 
tales  and  traditions  of  antiquity — all  those  notions  which  have 
given  birth  to  the  philosophy  of  mythology,  of  religions,  and  of 
history — the  Vicos  and  the  Creuzers — this  strange  medley  makes 
the  Spaccio  so  interesting.  The  philosopher  there  speaks  the 
noble  language  of  a moralist.  As  each  virtue  in  its  turn  appears 
to  replace  the  vices  which  disfigure  the  heavens,  it  learns  from 
Jupiter  all  it  has  to  do,  all  it  has  to  avoid  : all  its  attributes  are 
enumerated  and  explained,  and  mostly  personified  in  the  allegor- 
ical vein ; all  the  dangers  and  excesses  it  is  to  avoid  are  charac- 
terized with  the  same  vigor.  Every  page  reveals  a rare  talent 
for  psychological  observation,  a profound  knowledge  of  the  heart, 
and  of  contemporary  society.  The  passions  are  subtly  analyzed 
and  well  painted.  That  which  still  more  captivates  the  thought- 
ful reader  is  the  sustained  style  of  his  long  fiction,  which  may  be 
regarded  as  a sort  of  philosophic  sermon.  Truth  and  wisdom, 
justice  and  candor,  take  the  place  in  the  future  now  occupied 
by  error,  folly,  and  falsehood  of  every  species.  In  this  last  re- 
spect the  Spaccio  has  sometimes  the  style  of  the  Apocalypse.” 
W^ithout  impugning  the  justice  of  this  criticism,  we  must  add, 


GIOEDANO  BBTJNO. 


397 


that  the  Spaccio  taxes  even  a bookworm’s  patience,  and  ought 
to  be  read  with  a liberal  license  in  skipping. 

Perhaps  of  all  his  writings,  Oli  Eroid  Furori  is  that  which 
would  most  interest  a modern  readei',  not  curious  about  the  phi- 
losophical speculations  of  the  Neapolitan.  Its  prodigality  of  son- 
nets, and  its  mystic  exaltation,  carry  us  at  once  into  the  heart  of 
that  epoch  of  Italian  culture  when  poetry  and  Plato  were  the 
great  studies  of  earnest  men.  In  it  Bruno,  avowing  himself  a 
disciple  of  Petrarch,  proclaims  a Donna  more  exalted  than  Laura, 
more  adorable  than  all  earthly  beauty  : that  Donna  is  the  imper- 
ishable image  of  Divine  Perfection.  It  is  unworthy  of  a man,  he 
says,  to  languish  for  a woman ; to  sacrifice  to  her  all  those 
energies  and  faculties  of  a great  soul,  which  might  be  devoted 
to  the  pursuit  of  the  Divine.  Wisdom,  which  is  truth  and 
beauty  in  one,  is  the  idol  adored  by  the  genuine  hero.  Love 
woman  if  you  will,  but  remember  that  you  are  also  a lover  of  the 
Infinite.  Truth  is  the  food  of  every  heroic  soul ; hunting  for 
Truth  the  only  occupation  worthy  of  a hero.*  The  reader  of 
Plato  will  trace  here  a favorite  image ; and  was  it  not  Berkeley 
who  defined  Truth  as  the  cry  of  all,  but  the  game  few  run  down  ? 

* Vide,  in  particular,  the  fine  passage,  Oj>p  Ital.  ii.  406-7. 

28 


FIRST  EPOCH. 

FOUNDATION  OF  THE  INDUCTIVE  METHOD. 


§ I.  The  Life  of  Bacon. 

Francis  Bacon  was  born  on  the  22d  January,  1561.  Mr. 
Basil  Montagu,  the  laborious  and  affectionate  (we  had  almost 
said  idolatrous)  biographer  of  Bacon,  wishes  us  to  believe  that 
the  family  was  ancient  and  illustrious ; and  favors  us  with  rhe- 
torical flourishes  about  Bacon  retiring  to  the  “halls  of  his  an- 
cestors.” This  is  somewhat  different  from  the  story  of  Bacon’s 
grandfather  having  kept  the  sheep  of  the  Abbot  of  Bury.* 

But  although  we  can  claim  for  Bacon  no  illustrious  ancestry, 
we  must  not  forget  his  excellent  parentage.  His  father.  Sir 
Nicholas,  was  generally  considered  as  ranking  next  to  the  great 
Burleigh  as  a statesman.  His  mother,  Anne,  daughter  of  Sir 
Anthony  Cooke,  “ was  distinguished  both  as  a linguist  and  as  a 
theologian.  She  corresponded  in  Greek  with  Bishop  Jewel,  and 
translated  his  Apologia  from  the  Latin  so  correctly,  that  neither 
he  nor  Bishop  Parker  could  suggest  a single  alteration.”! 

His  health  was  very  delicate,  which  made  him  sedentary  and 
reflective.  Of  his  youth  we  know  little,  but  that  little  displays 


* See  this  question  of  lineage,  and  a great  many  other  curious  points, 
satisfactorily  settled  in  an  article  on  the  Lives  of  Bacon,  London  Review, 
Jan.  1836. 

t Edinh.  Review,  July,  1837,  p.  9.  This  is  the  brilliant  article  on  Bacon, 
by  Macaulay,  which  has  excited  so  much  attention.  It  is  reprinted  in  hia 
Essays. 


THE  LIEE  OF  BACON. 


399 


the  reflective  tendency  of  his  mind.  At  the  age  of  twelve  he^ 
discussed  the  point  as  to  how  a juggler  could  tell  the  card  of 
which  a man  thought : he  at  first  ascribed  it  to  a confederacy 
between  the  juggler  and  the  servants,  till  he  at  last  discovered 
the  law  of  the  mind  on  which  the  trick  depends.  We  hear  also 
of  his  leaving  his  playfellows  to  examine  the  cause  of  an  echo 
which  he  had  observed  in  a vault.  At  thirteen  he  was  entered 
at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  soon  felt  a profound 
contempt  for  the  course  of  study  pursued  there,  and  an  inveterate 
scorn  for  Aristotle  and  his  followers.  It  is  said  that  he  there 
planned  his  Novum  Organum ; but  this  is  highly  improbable. 
What  he  did  was  perhaps  to  sketch  some  new  scheme  of  philo- 
sophical study,  originated  by  his  contempt  for  that  in  vogue. 
There  must  however  be  a wide  difference  between  the  sketch 
of  a boy,  prompted  by  contempt  for  reigning  opinions,  and 
the  wise  maturity  of  his  greatest  work,  the  fruit  of  a life’s  medi- 
tations. 

On  leaving  Cambridge,  he  visited  Paris,  Poitiers,  and  other 
parts  of  France,  from  whence  he  v^as  recalled  on  the  sudden 
death  of  his  father.  “ Being  returned  from  travaile,”  says  Dr. 
Rowley,  “ he  applyed  himself  to  the  study  of  the  Common  Law, 
which  he  took  upon  him  to  be  his  profession ; in  which  he  ob- 
tained to  great  excellency,  though  he  made  that  (as  himself  said) 
but  as  an  accessory,  and  not  as  his  principal  study.” 

In  1590,  he  sat  in  Parliament  as  Member  for  Middlesex.  He 
soon  became  distinguished  as  an  orator  and  as  a debater.  We 
have  the  testimony  of  an  admirable  judge  to  assure  us  that 
Bacon’s  oratory  was  worthy  of  his  other  powers.  Ben  Jonson 
thus  writes : “ There  happened,  in  my  time,  one  noble  speaker, 
who  was  full  of  gravity  in  his  speaking.  His  language,  where 
he  could  spare  or  pass  by  a jest,  was  nobly  censorious.  Ho  man 
ever  spoke  more  neatly,  more  pressly,  more  weightily,  or  suffered 
less  emptiness,  less  idleness,  in  what  he  uttered.  Ho  member  of 
his  speech  but  consisted  of  his  own  graces.  His  hearers  could 
Qot  cough  or  look  aside  from  him  without  loss.  He  commanded 


iOO 


THE  LIFE  OF  BACON. 


.when  he  spoke,  and  had  his  judges  angry  or  pleased  at  his  de- 
votion.”* 

A grave  biographical  question,  namely  that  of  Bacon’s  politi- 
cal and  moral  conduct,  must  be  passed  over  by  us  without  a word 
of  comment,  because  the  question  is  too  complicated  and  critical 
for  any  succinct  narrative.f  Let  us  pass  on  to  the  year  1616, 
when  Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  sworn  of  the  Privy  Council ; and 
in  March,  16lY,  on  the  retirement  of  Lord  Brackley,  was  ap- 
pointed Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal.  His  administration  was  any 
thing  but  pure.  He  was  the  tool  of  Buckingham,  who  was  alto- 
gether unscrupulous.  On  his  own  account,  too,  he  accepted 
large  presents  from  persons  engaged  in  Chancery  suits.  His 
enemies  reckoned  his  gains  in  this  way  at  a hundred  thousand 
pounds ; an  immense  sum  in  those  days,  and  probably  exagger- 
ated. His  works  had  spread  his  fame  throughout  Europe.  He 
had  also  been  created  Baron  Verulam ; and  subsequently  Vis- 
count St.  Alban’s.  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he 
valued  this  title  more  highly  than  that  of  the  author  of  the  In- 
stauratio  Magna;  but,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  remarks,  posterity,  in 
defiance  of  royal  letters-patent,  has  obstinately  refused  to  degrade 
Francis  Bacon  into  Viscount  St.  Alban’s. 

In  the  height  of  this  prosperity  a terrible  reverse  was  at  hand. 
He  was  accused  of  corruption,  and  was  impeached.  His  re- 
morse and  dejection  of  mind  were  dreadful.  “ During  several 
days  he  remained  in  his  bed,  refusing  to  see  any  human  being. 
He  passionately  told  his  attendants  to  leave  him— to  forget  him 
— never  again  to  n.ame  his  name — never  to  remember  that  there 
had  been  such  a man  in  the  world.”  The  charges  against  him 
were  such  that  the  King,  impotent  to  save  him,  advised  him  to 

* Ben  Jonson,  Underwoods.  In  the  Discoveries,  Ben  also  speaks  admir- 
ingly and  affectionately  of  him. 

t In  the  former  edition,  Mr.  Macaulay’s  view  of  this  question  was 
adopted  ; but  on  the  eve  of  the  appearance  of  that  long-promised  edition  of 
Bacon’s  works,  in  which  Mr.  Spedding  is  to  give  the  results  of  his  ex- 
naustive  study  of  this  question,  it  seems  desirable  not  to  repeat  statements 
which  may  turn  out  error  ecus  when  all  the  evidence  is  produced. 


THE  LIFE  OF  BACON. 


401 


plead  guilty.  He  did  so.  The  sentence  he  received  was  severe : 
a fine  of  forty  thousand  pounds,  and  to  be  imprisoned  in  the 
Tower  during  the  King’s  pleasure.  He  was  declared  incapable 
of  holding  any  office  in  the  State,  or  of  sitting  in  Parliament, 
and  was  banished  for  life  from  the  verge  of  the  Court. 

This  sentence  was  not  executed.  He  was  sent,  indeed,  to  the 
Tower,  but  at  the  end  of  the  second  day  he  was  released.  His 
fine  was  remitted  by  the  Crown.  He  was  soon  allowed  to  pre- 
sent himself  at  Court;  and  in  1624  the  rest  of  his  sentence  was 
remitted.  He  was  at  liberty  to  sit  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
was  summoned  to  the  next  Parliament.  He  did  not,  however, 
attend  : age,  infirmity,  and  perhaps  shame,  prevented  him. 

In  his  retirement,  he  devoted  himself  to  literature ; and 
amongst  other  works  published  his  wonderful  treatise  De  Aug- 
mentis^  which,  though  only  an  expansion  of  his  Advancement  of 
Learning^  may  nevertheless  be  regarded  as  a new  work.* * 

“ The  great  apostle  of  experimental  philosophy,”  says  Mr.  Ma- 
caulay, “ was  destined  to  be  its  martyr.  It  had  occurred  to  him 
that  snow  might  be  used  with  advantage,  for  the  purpose  of  pre- 
venting animal  substances  from  putrefying.  On  a very  cold  day, 
early  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1626,  he  alighted  from  his  coach 
near  Highgate,  to  try  the  experiment.  He  went  into  a cottage, 
bought  a fowl,  and  with  his  own  hands  stuflfed  it  with  snow. 
While  thus  engaged,  he  felt  a sudden  chill,  and  was  so  much  in- 
disposed, that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  return  to  Gray’s  Inn. 
After  an  illness  of  about  a week,  he  expired  on  the  morning  of 
Easter-day,  1626.  His  mind  appears  to  have  retained  its  strength 
and  liveliness  to  the  end.  He  did  not  forget  the  fowl  which  had 
caused  his  death.  In  the  last  letter  that  he  ever  wrote,  with  fin- 
gers which,  as  he  said,  could  not  steadily  hold  a pen,  he  did  not 
omit  to  mention  that  the  experiment  of  the  snow  had  succeeded 
excellently  well.” 

* “ I And,  upon  comparison,  that  more  than  two-thirds  of  this  treatise  are 
a version,  with  slight  interpolation  or  omission,  from  the  Advancement  of 
Learning,  the  remainder  being  new  matter.” — Hallam,  History  of  Literature 

*f  Europe,  iii.  169. 


4:02 


BACON. 


Bacon,  when  dying,  did  not  disguise  from  himself  the  mournfu, 
fact,  that  if  he  had  thought  profoundly,  he  had  acted  unworthily 
Knowing  at  once  his  errors  and  his  greatness,  he  said,  “ For  my 
name  and  memory,  I leave  it  to  men’s  charitable  speeches,  and 
to  foreign  nations,  and  to  the  next  age.”  His  confidence  was 
well  placed.  Leniently  as  we  cannot  but  think  him  to  tave 
been  treated  by  his  contemporaries,  posterity  has  been  still  more 
gracious ; and  the  reason  is  felicitously  expressed  by  Macaulay : 
“ Turn  where  we  will,  the  trophies  of  that  mighty  intellect  are 
full  in  view.  We  are  judging  Manlius  in  sight  of  the  Capitol." 

§ Bacon’s  Method. 

Bacon  is  commonly  styled  the  Father  of  Experimental  Philos- 
ophy. Was  he  the  first  great  experimentalist?  No.  Was  he 
the  most  successful  experimentalist?  No.  Was  he  the  dis- 
coverer of  some  of  those  great  laws,  the  application  of  which  is 
the  occupation  of  succeeding  generations — was  he  a Copernicus, 
a Galileo,  a Kepler,  a Torricelli,  a Harvey,  or  a Newton  ? No. 

He  owes  this  title  to  his  Method,  as  will  be  understood  after  the 
following  sketch,  in  which  we  shall  follow  Professor  Playfair’s 
exposition  in  his  Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  Physical  Sci- 
ence, prefixed  to  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica. 

Before  laying  down  the  rules  of  his  Method,  Bacon  proceeds 
to  enumerate  the  causes  of  error — the  Idols,  as  he  terms  them, 
in  his  figurative  language,  or  false  divinities,  to  which  the  mind 
had  so  long  been  accustomed  to  bow.*  Fie  considered  this  enu- 
meration as  the  more  necessary,  that  the  same  idols  were  likely  to 
return,  even  after  the  reformation  of  science. 

These  idols  he  divides  into  four  classes,  viz. ; 


Idola  Tribfis Idols  of  the  Tribe. 

Idola  Spectis Idols  of  the  Den. 

Idola  Fori Idols  of  the  Forum. 

Idola  Theatri Idols  of  the  Theatre. 


* Mr.  Hallam  was  the  first  to  poirit  out  the  mistake  which  all  modern 
writers  have  made  respeeting  the  meaning  of  the  word  Idol,  as  used  by  Ba- 
ton; whieh  does  not  mean  idol,  but  false  appearance  {siSmXov).  See  the 
passage  in  Hallam’s  Lit.  of  Europe,  iii.  194-6. 


bacon’s  method. 


403 


1.  The  Idols  of  the  Tribe  are  the  causes  of  error  founded  on 
human  nature  in  general.  “ The  mind,”  he  observes,  “ is  not 
like  a plane  mirror,  which  reflects  the  images  of  things  exactly 
as  they  are ; it  is  like  a mirror  of  an  uneven  surface,  which  com- 
bines its  own  flgure  with  the  figures  of  the  objects  it  represents.” 

Among  the  idols  of  this  class,  w'e  may  reckon  the  propensity 
which  there  is  in  all  men  to  find  a greater  degree  of  order,  sim- 
plicity, and  regularity,  than  is  actually  indicated  by  observa- 
tion, Thus,  as  soon  as  men  perceived  the  orbits  of  the  planets 
to  return  into  themselves,  they  immediately  supposed  them  to  be 
perfect  circles,  and  the  motion  in  those  circles  to  be  uniform ; 
and  to  these  hypotheses  the  astronomers  and  mathematicians  of 
all  antiquity  labored  incessantly  to  reconcile  their  observations. 

The  propensity  which  Bacon  has  here  characterized,  may  be 
called  the  spirit  of  system. 

2.  The  Idols  of  the  Den  are  those  which  spring  from  the  pe- 
culiar character  of  the  individual.  Besides  the  causes  of  error 
common  to  all  mankind,  each  individual  has  his  own  dark  cav- 
ern, or  den,  into  which  the  light  is  imperfectly  admitted,  and  in 
the  obscurity  of  which  a tutelary  idol  lurks,  at  whose  shrine  the 
truth  is  often  sacrificed. 

Some  minds  are  best  adapted  to  mark  the  differences  of  things, 
others  to  catch  at  the  resemblances  of  things.  Steady  and  pro- 
found understandings  are  disposed  to  attend  carefully,  to  proceed 
slowly,  and  to  examine  the  most  minute  differences ; while  those 
that  are  sublime  and  active,  are  ready  to  lay  hold  of  the  slightest 
resemblances.  Each  of  these  easily  runs  into  excess;  the  one 
by  catching  continually  at  distinctions,  the  other  at  affinities. 

3.  The  Idols  of  the  Forum  are  those  which  arise  out  of  the 
intercourse  of  society,  and  those  also  which  arise  from  lan- 
guage. 

Men  believe  that  their  thoughts  govern  their  words ; but  it 
also  happens,  by  a certain  kind  of  reaction,  that  their  words  fre- 
quently govern  their  thoughts.  This  is  the  more  pernicious, 
that  words,  being  generally  the  work  of  the  multitude,  divide 


i04 


BACON. 


things  according  to  the  lines  most  conspicuous  to  vulgar  appre 
hensions.  Hence,  when  words  are  examined,  few  instances  are 
found  in  which,  if  at  all  abstract,  they  convey  ideas  tolerably 
precise  and  defined. 

4.  The  Idols  of  the  Theatre  are  the  deceptions  which  have 
arisen  from  the  dogmas  of  different  schools. 

As  many  systems  as  existed,  so  many  representations  of  im- 
aginary worlds  had  been  brought  upon  the  stage.  Hence  the 
name  of  Idola  Theatri.  They  do  not  enter  the  mind  impercep- 
tibly like  the  other  three ; a man  must  labor  to  acquire  them, 
and  they  are  often  the  result  of  great  learning  and  study. 

After  these  preliminary  discussions.  Bacon  proceeds,  in  the 
Second  Book  of  his  Organum,  to  describe  and  exemplify  the 
nature  of  induction. 

The  first  object  must  be  to  prepare  a history  of  the  phenomena 
to  be  explained,  in  all  their  modifications  and  varieties.  This 
history  is  to  comprehend  not  only  all  such  facts  as  spontaneously 
oflfer  themselves,  but  all  the  experiments  instituted  for  the  sake  oj 
discovery^  or  for  any  of  the  purposes  of  the  useful  arts.  It  ought 
to  be  composed  with  great  care ; the  facts  accurately  related  and 
distinctly  arranged ; their  authenticity  diligently  examined ; 
those  that  rest  on  doubtful  evidence,  though  not  rejected,  yet 
noted  as  uncertain,  with  the  grounds  of  the  judgment  so  formed. 
This  last  is  very  necessary,  for  facts  often  appear  incredible  only 
because  we  are  ill-informed,  and  cease  to  appear  marvellous  when 
our  knowledge  is  further  extended.  This  record  of  facts  is  Nat- 
ural History. 

The  Natural  History  being  prepared  of  any  class  of  phenom- 
ena, the  next  object  is  to  discover,  by  a comparison  of  the  diflPer- 
ent  facts,  the  cause  of  these  phenomena,  or,  as  Bacon  calls  it,  the 
form.  The  form  of  any  quality  in  a body  is  something  convert- 
ible with  that  quality ; that  is,  where  it  exists  the  quality  exists : 
thus,  if  transparency  in  bodies  be  the  thing  inquired  after,  the 
form  of  it  is  something  found  wherever  there  is  transparency. 
Thus  form  difl^ers  from  cause  in  this  onlv : we  call  it  form  or  es- 


bacon’s  method. 


405 


sence,  when  the  effect  is  a permanent  quality ; we  call  it  cause, 
when  the  effect  is  a change  or  an  event. 

Two  other  subjects,  snbordinate  to  forms,  hut  often  essential  to 
the  knowledge  of  them,  are  also  occasionally  subjects  of  investiga- 
tion. These  are  the  latent  process,  laiens  processus  ; and  the  la- 
tent schematism,  latens  schematismus.  The  former  is  the  secret 
and  invisible  progress  by  which  sensible  changes  are  brought 
about,  and  seems,  in  Bacon’s  acceptation,  to  involve  the  principle 
since  called  the  law  of  continuity,  according  to  which  no  change, 
however  small,  can  he  effected  but  in  time.  To  know  the  rela- 
tion between  the  time  and  the  change  effected  in  it,  would  he  to 
have  a perfect  knowledge  of  the  latent  process.  In  the  firing  of 
a cannon,  for  example,  the  succession  of  events  during  the  short 
interval  between  the  application  of  the  match  and  the  expulsion 
of  the  ball,  constitutes  a latent  process  of  a very  remarkable  and 
complicated  nature,  which,  however,  we  can  now  trace  with 
some  degree  of  accuracy. 

The  latent  schematism  is  that  invisible  structure  of  bodies  on 
which  so  many  of  their  properties  depend.  When  we  inquire 
into  the  constitution  of  crystals,  or  into  the  internal  structure  of 
plants,  etc.,  we  are  examining  into  the  latent  schematism. 

In  order  to  inquire  into  the  form  of  any  thing  by  induction, 
having  brought  together  all  the  facts,  we  are  to  begin  with  consid- 
ering what  things  are  thereby  excluded  from  the  number  of  pos- 
sible forms.  This  conclusion  is  the  first  part  of  the  process  of 
induction.  Thus,  if  we  are  inquiring  into  the  quality  which  is 
the  cause  of  transparency  in  bodies ; from  the  fact  that  the  dia- 
mond is  transparent,  we  immediately  exclude  rarity  or  porosity- 
as  well  as  fluidity  from  these  causes,  the  diamond  being  a very 
solid  and  dense  body. 

Negative  instances,  or  those  where  the  form  is  wanting,  to  bo 
also  collected. 

That  glass  when  pounded  is  not  transparent,  is  a negative  fact, 
when  the  form  of  transparency  is  inquired  into ; also,  that  col- 
lections of  vapors  have  not  transparency.  The  facts  thus  col 


BACON. 


i06 

lected,  both  negative  and  affirmative,  should,  for  the  sake  of  ref- 
erence, be  reduced  to  tables. 

Bacon  exemplifies  his  Method  on  the  subject  of  Heat ; and 
though  his  collection  of  facts  is  imperfect,  his  method  of  treating 
them  is  extremely  judicious,*  and  the  whole  disquisition  highly 
interesting. 

After  a great  many  exclusions  have  been  made,  and  left  but 
few  principles  common  to  every  case,  one  of  these  is  to  be  as- 
sumed as  the  cause ; and  by  reasoning  from  it  synthetically,  we 
aro  to  try  if  it  will  account  for  the  phenomena.  So  necessary 
did  this  exclusive  process  appear  to  Bacon,  that  he  says,  “ It  may, 
perhaps,  be  competent  to  angels  or  superior  intelligences  to  de- 
termine the  form  or  essence  directly,  by  affirmations  from  the 
first  consideration  of  the  subject ; but  it  is  certainly  beyond  the 
power  of  man,  to  whom  it  is  only  given  to  proceed  at  first  by 
negatives,  and  in  the  last  place  to  end  in  affirmatives,  after  the 
exclusion  of  every  thing  else.” 

There  is,  however,  great  difference  in  the  value  of  facts.  Some 
of  them  show  the  thing  sought  for  in  the  highest  degree,  some 
in  the  lowest ; some  exhibit  it  simple  and  uncombined,  in  others 
it  appears  confused  with  a variety  of  circumstances.  Some  facts 
are  easily  interpreted,  others  are  very  obscure,  and  are  understood 
only  in  consequence  of  the  light  thrown  on  them  by  the  former. 
This  led  Bacon  to  his  consideration  of  Prerogative  Instances,  or 
the  comparative  value  of  facts  as  means  of  discovery.  He  enu- 
merates twenty-seven  different  species  : but  we  must  content  our- 
selves with  giving  only  the  most  important. 

I.  Instantice  solitarice : which  are  either  examples  of  the  same 
quality  existing  in  two  bodies  otherwise  different,  or  of  a quality 
differing  in  two  bodies  otherwise  the  same.  In  the  first  instance 
the  bodies  differ  in  all  things  but  one ; in  the  seeond  they  agree 
in  all  but  one.  Thus,  if  the  cause  or  form  of  color  be  inquired 


* This  is  Playfair’s  judgment ; a different  opinion  will  presently  be  quoted 
from  John  Mill. 


bacon’s  method. 


407 


into,  instantioe  solitarioB  are  found  in  crystals,  prisms,  drops  of 
dew,  which  occasionally  exhibit  color,  and  yet  have  nothing  in 
common  with  the  stones,  flowers,  and  metals  which  possess  color 
permanently,  except  the  color  itself.  Hence  Bacon  concludes 
that  color  is  nothing  else  than  a modification  of  the  rays  of  light, 
produced  in  the  fimt  case  by  the  different  degrees  of  incidence  ; 
and  second,  by  the  texture  or  constitution  of  the  surface  of  bodies. 
He  maybe  considered  as  very  fortunate  in  fixing  on  these  exam- 
ples, for  it  was  by  means  of  them  that  Newton  afterwards  found 
out  the  composition  of  light. 

II.  The  instantice  migrantes  exhibit  some  property  of  the 
body  passing  from  one  condition  to  another,  either  from  less  to 
greater  or  from  greater  to  less ; arriving  nearer  perfection  in  the 
first  case,  or  verging  towards  extinction  in  the  second. 

Suppose  the  thing  inquired  into  were  the  cause  of  whiteness 
in  bodies ; an  instantia  migrans  is  found  in  glass,  which  entire 
is  colorless,  but  pulverized  becomes  white.  The  same  is  the  case 
with  water  unbroken  or  dashed  into  foam. 

HI.  The  instantice  ostensivce  are  the  facts  which  show  some 
particular  property  in  its  highest  state  of  power  and  energy, 
when  it  is  either  freed  from  impediments  which  usually  counter- 
act it,  or  is  itself  of  such  force  as  entirely  to  repress  those  im- 
pediments. 

If  the  weight  of  air  were  inquired  into,  the  Torricellian  ex- 
periment, or  the  barometer,  aflTords  an  ostensive  instance,  where 
the  circumstance  which  conceals  the  weight  of  the  atmosphere 
in  common  cases,  namely  the  pressure  of  it  in  all  directions,  be- 
|ing  entirely  removed,  that  weight  produces  its  full  effect,  and 
sustains  the  whole  column  of  mercury  in  the  tube. 

IV.  The  instances  called  analogous  or  parallel  consist  of  facts 
between  which  a resemblance  or  analogy  is  visible  in  some  par- 
ticulars, notwithstanding  great  diversity  in  all  the  rest.  Such 
are  the  telescope  and  microscope  compared  to  the  eye.  It  was 
the  experiment  of  the  camera  obsCura  which  led  to  the  discovery 
of  the  formation  of  images  of  external  objects  in  the  bottom  of 


i08 


BACON. 


the  eye  by  the  action  of  the  crystalline  lens,  and  other  humor? 
of  which  the  eye  is  formed. 

V.  InstanticE  comitattis : examples  of  certain  qualities  which 
always  accompany  one  another.  Such  are  flame  and  heat : flame 
being  always  accompanied  by  heat,  and  the  same  degree  of  heat 
in  a given  substance  being  always  accompanied  with  flame. 

Hostile  instances,  or  those  of  perpetual  separation,  are  the  re- 
verse of  the  former.  Thus  transparency  and  malleability  in  solids 
are  never  combined. 

VI.  The  instantia  crucis.  When  in  any  investigation  the  un- 
derstanding is  placed  in  cequilihrio,  as  it  were,  between  two  or 
more  causes,  each  of  which  accounts  equally  well  for  the  appear- 
ances as  far  as  they  are  known,  nothing  remains  to  be  done,  but 
to  look  out  for  a fact  which  can  be  explained  by  one  of  these 
causes  and  not  by  the  other.  Such  facts  perform  the  office  of  a 
cross,  erected  at  the  separation  of  two  roads,  to  direct  the  travel 
ler  which  to  take : hence  called  crucial  instances. 

The  experimentum  crucis  is  of  such  weight  in  matters  of  in- 
duction, that  in  all  those  branches  of  science  where  it  cannot  be 
resorted  to  (an  experiment  being  out  of  our  power  and  incapable 
of  being  varied  at  pleasure)  there  is  often  a great  want  of  con- 
clusive evidence. 

§ III.  The  Spirit  of  Bacon’s  Method. 

We  may  now  resume  the  question  of  Bacon’s  claim  to  the 
title  of  Father  of  Experimental  Science.  That  which  distin- 
guishes his  conception  of  philosophy  from  all  previous  concep- 
tions is  the  systematization  of  graduated  Verification,  as  the  sole 
Method  of  research.  Others  before  him,  notably  Albertus 
Magnus,  had  insisted  on  some  parts  of  the  experimental  Method; 
his  great  predecessor  and  namesake,  Roger  Bacon,  had,  in  the 
Opus  Majus,  insisted  on  experience  as  the  truest  guide,  and  had 
distributed  the  causes  of  error  under  four  heads  (Authority,  Cus- 
tom, Vulgar  Prejudice,  and  False  Science),  but  no  one  had  co- 
ordinated into  a compact  body  of  doctrine  all  the  elements  of 


THE  SriKIT  OF  BACON’s  METHOD. 


409 


the  Inductive  Method ; and  it  is  in  this  co-ordination  that  Ba- 
con’s great  merit  lies.  Roger  Bacon  had  said  that  “ experience 
alone  gives  accurate  knowledge.  Reasoning  concludes,  but  estab- 
lishes nothing ; even  mathematical  demonstration  gives  no  com- 
plete and  certain  conviction  without  this  sanction.  But  this 
experimental  science  is  entirely  unknown  to  the  many.  It  has 
three  grand  prerogatives  relatively  to  the  other  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge. The  first  is,  that  experiment  proves  and  verifies  by  its  in- 
vestigations the  highest  propositions  which  the  other  sciences  can 
present.  The  second  is,  that  this  method,  which  alone  merits 
the  name  of  mistress  of  speculative  knowledge,  can  alone  attain 
to  those  sublime  truths  which  other  sciences  cannot  reach ; in 
experimental  truths  the  mind  must  not  seek  for  the  reason  of 
things  before  the  testimony  of  facts,  nor  reject  those  facts  because 
it  cannot  justily  them  by  argument.  The  third  prerogative  is 
so  peculiar  to  this  method  that  it  is  independent  of  its  relations 
with  the  others  ; it  consists  in  two  points,  namely,  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  future,  the  present,  and  the  past,  and  in  the  admira- 
ble operations  in  which,  it  surpasses  judicial  astrology.”*  Many 
— from  Socrates  downwards — had  insisted  on  Induction ; but  the 
Induction  they  conceived  was  that  which  Bacon  calls  inductio 
per  enumerationem  simplicem,  and  which  consists  in  “ ascribing 
the  character  of  general  truths  to  all  propositions  which  are  true 
in  every  instance  that  we  happen  to  know  of an  induction 
perpetually  made  in  the  loose  latitude  of  common  talk,  and  in 
the  less  pardonable  laxity  of  common  literature.  It  is  the  natural 
and  instinctive  action  of  the  mind,  and  is  thus  distinguished  from 
the  circumspect  Method  of  Science.  The  real  merit  of  Bacon’s 
conception  was  his  accurate  detection  of  this  natural  source  of 

* This  passage,  translated  from  M.  Eousselot’s  Etudes,  iii.  189,  Is  not  prop- 
erly Bacon’s,  bat  an  abstract  of  the  doctrines  developed  and  exemplified  in 
the  sixth  part  of  the  Opus  Majus,  pp.  445-477  of  the  Loudon  edition,  1733. 
The  four  causes  of  error  are  mentioned  in  p.  2 of  the  same  edition  : “ Fragi 
iis  et  indignse  auctoritatis  exemplum,  consuetudinis  diuturnitas,  vulgi  sensut 
imperiti,  et  proprise  ignorantise  occultatio  cum  ostentatione  sapientise  appa 
rentis.” 


no 


BACON, 


error,  and  liis  insistance  on  the  wider  and  more  circumspect 
Method  of  V erification. 

He  did  not  content  himself  with  telling  men  to  make  observa- ' 
tions  and  experiments : he  told  them  how  observations  and  ex- 
periments ought  to  be  made.  He  did  not  content  himself  with 
stating  the  proper  mode  of  investigation  to  be  that  of  Induc- 
tion founded  upon  facts  : he  distinguished  proper  from  impro- 
per inductions — the  “interrogation”  from  the  “anticipation”  of' 
Nature. 

He  did  this,  and  he  did  more.  His  Method  may  be  said  to 
have  two  parts : the  one,  that  precise  system  of  rules  we  have 
just  quoted ; the  other,  that  wise  and  pre-eminently  scientific 
spirit  which  breathes  through  his  works.  The  latter  is  expressed 
■in  wise  and  weighty  aphorisms  which  form  perpetual  texts  for 
philosophic  writers,  and  reveal  the  magnificence  and  profundity 
of  his  intellect.  It  is  in  these  he  shows  how  completely  he  saw 
through  the  false  methods  of  his  day,  and  how  justly  he  is  en- 
titled the  Father  of  Positive  Science. 

These  aphorisms  form,  as  we  have  said,  perpetual  texts.  They 
are  quoted  on  all  occasions  when  Method  is  treated  of.  We 
cannot  however  resist  quoting  a half-dozen  of  them  here,  because 
of  their  exceeding  value,  and  of  their  fitness  as  illustrations  of 
his  greatness  : 

I.  Man,  the  minister  and  interpreter  of  Nature,  can  act  and 
understand  in  as  far  as  he  has,  either  in  fact  or  in  thought,  ob- 
served the  order  of  Nature ; more  he  can  neither  know  nor  do. 

II.  The  real  cause  and  root  of  almost  all  the  evils  in  science 

is  this : that,  falsely  magnifying  and  extolling  the  'powers  of  the 
mind,  we  seek  not  its  real  helps.  i 

HI.  'There  are  two  ways  of  searching  after  and  discovering 
truth : the  one,  from  sense  and  particulars,  rises  directly  to  the 
most  general  axioms,  and  resting  upon  these  principles,  and  their 
unshaken  truth,  finds  out  intermediate  axioms,  and  this  is  the 
method  in  use ; but  the  other  raises  axioms  from  sense  and  par- 
ticulars hy  a continued  and  gradual  ascent,  till  at  last  it  arrives 


xHE  SPIRIT  OF  EACOn’s  METHOD. 


411 


6t  the  most  general  axioms,  which  is  the  true  way,  but  hitherto 
untried. 

IV.  The  understanding,  when  left  to  itself,  takes  the  first  of 
these  ways ; for  the  mind  delights  in  springing  up  to  the  most 
general  axioms,  that  it  may  find  rest ; but  after  a short  stay  there, 
it  disdains  experience,  and  these  mischiefs  are  at  length  increased 
by  logic,  for  the  ostentation  of  disputes. 

V.  The  natural  human  reasoning  we,  for  the  sake  of  clearness, 
call  the  anticipation  of  nature,  as  being  a rash  and  hasty  thing ; 
and  the  reason  duly  exercised  upon  objects,  we  call  the  interpre 
tation  of  nature. 

VI.  It  is  false  to  assert  that  human  sense  is  the  measure  of 
things,  since  all  perceptions,  both  of  sense  and  mind,  are  with 
relation  to  man,  and  not  with  relation  to  the  universe  but  the 
human  understanding  is  like  an  unequal  mirror  to  the  rays  of 
things,  which,  mixing  its  own  nature  with  the  nature  of  things, 
distorts  and  perverts  them. 

We  need  only  consider  these  half-dozen  aphorisms  to  see  the 
positive  tendency  of  his  speculations ; and  the  greater  the  atten- 
tion we  bestow  on  his  writings,  the  more  is  this  fact  pressed  on 
our  notice.  His  mind  was  antipathetic  to  all  metaphysics. 
Neither  the  ingenuities  of  logicians,  nor  the  passionate  earnest- 
ness of  theologians,  in  that  age  of  logicians  and  theologians, 
could  lure  him  from  his  path.  “ He  lived  in  an  age,”  says  Mr. 
Macaulay,  “in  which  disputes  on  the  most  subtle  points  of  di- 
vinity excited  an  intense  interest  throughout  Europe,  and  no- 
where more  than  in  England.  He  was  placed  in  the  very  thick 
of  the  conflict.  He  was  in  power  at  the  time  of  the  Synod  of 
Dort ; and  must  for  months  have  been  daily  deafened  with  talk 
about  election,  reprobation,  and  final  perseverance ; yet  we  do 
not  remember  a line  in  his  works  from  which  it  can  be  inferred 
that  he  was  either  a Calvinist  or  an  Arminian.  While  the  world 

* This  is  Dr.  Shaw’s  translation.  The  original  is,  “ sunt  ex  analogic  homi 
uis,  non  ex  analogia  nniversi,”  which  is  intelligible  and  expressive  enough 
but  difficult  to  render. 


BACON. 


1:12 

was  resounding  with  the  noise  of  a disputatious  theology  and  ? 
disputatious  philosophy,  the  Baconian  School,  like  Allworthy 
seated  between  Thwackum  and  Square,  preserved  a calm  neutral- 
ity, half  scornful,  half  benerolent,  and,  content  with  adding  to 
the  sum  of  practical  good,  left  the  war  of  words  to  those  who 
liked  it.” 

It  may  not  at  once  be  apparent  how  eminently  scientific  a 
spirit  is  shown  in  Bacon’s  separation  of  Science  from  Theology ; 
but  a slight  reflection  will  convince  us  that,  at  such  an  epoch, 
such  a conception  was  wonderful.  The  persecution  of  Galileo 
by  the  Church,  and  his  recantation,  were  fresh  in  every  one’s 
memory ; they  suffice  to  show  that  Religion  was  still  considered 
the  arbiter  of  Philosophy  and  Science  ; nor  is  this  notion  yet  ex- 
tinct. The  objections  raised  against  the  geologists  still  operate 
as  a powerful  obstacle  to  the  universal  acceptation  of  the  science ; 
and  similar  objections  constantly  obstruct  our  scientific  progress 
in  other  departments.  This  tendency  is  frequently  deplored; 
perhaps  it  might  be  checked  in  some  degree  if  it  were  shown  to 
violate  a fundamental  canon  of  all  sound  philosophy,  a canon 
which  may  be  thus  expressed : No  speculation  should  he  con- 
trolled by  an  order  of  conceptions  not  essentially  presupposed  by 
it.  For  example,  every  one  feels  the  absurdity  of  controlling 
Poetry  by  Mathematics ; because  Poetry  in  no  sense  presupposes 
Mathematics,  and  derives  no  assistance  from  them ; but  Physics 
can  be  controlled  by  Mathematics,  because  in  Physics  there  is 
an  essential  dependence  on  Mathematics.  We  cannot  control  a 
chemical  speculation  by  any  physiological  laws ; but  conversely 
we  can,  and  do,  control  physiological  speculations  by  chemical 
laws.  The  canon,  thus  expounded,  is  readily  applied  to  the  old 
disputes  between  Religion  and  Science.  Theology  belongs  to  a 
totally  different  order  of  conceptions  from  that  of  Science.  Its 
aims  are  difi'erent,  its  methods  are  difierent,  its  proofs  are  differ- 
ent. Only  in  so  far  as  Theology  comes  into  the  circle  of  other 
sciences,  can  it  be  legitimately  controlled  by  them ; for  instance, 
when  Theology  rests  any  claims  on  historical  evidence,  then,  and 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  BACOh’s  METHOD.  4:13 

«)  that  extent,  must  it  be  controlled  by  historical  criticism  ; when 
it  rests  any  claim  on  scientific  evidence,  then  and  to  that  extent, 
must  it  submit  to  scientific  control ; just  as  Poetry,  if  dealing  at 
all  with  Mathematical  problems,  must  do  so  correctly,  or  submit 
to  the  criticism  of  mathematicians.  But  when  the  Church  de- 
clares against  Galileo  ; when  the  perhaps  well-meaning  but  cer- 
tainly unwise  declaimers  of  the  present  day  oppose  Geology  on 
theological  grounds,  the  error  is  of  the  same  nature  as  that  of  a 
poet  who  should  assail  Mathematics  on  poetical  grounds.  There 
can  be  no  fair  disputes  between  Theology  and  Science.  Each 
pursues  its  own  path ; the  one  may  push  aside  the  other ; they 
cannot  argue,  for  they  have  no  common  ground.  In  Theology 
there  may  be  disputes,  as  between  Catholic  and  Protestant, 
Lutheran  and  Zuinglian,  Presbyterian  and  Quaker,  because  all 
proceed  from  the  same  starting-point,  all  invoke  the  same  evi- 
dence ; and  in  Science  there  may  be  disputes,  as  between  Chem- 
ists, Geologists,  and  Physiologists,  because,  all  employing  the  same 
methods,  the  same  kind  of  evidence,  there  is  common  ground  for 
them  to  fight  on.  But  what  a dissonance  of  words,  expressive 
of  no  less  dissonance  in  ideas,  in  the  phrases  “Lutheran  Botany” 
and  “ Presbyterian  Optics,”  “ Catholic  Chemistry”  and  “ Evan- 
gelical Anatomy  !”  Yet  it  is  clear  that  if  Theology  is  to  inter 
fere  with  and  control  the  speculations  of  Science,  the  various 
theological  sects  may  also  control  it  according  to  their  various 
views.  We  therefore  see  in  Bacon’s  rigorous  separation  of  the 
two  disparate  paths  of  inquiry  a profoundly  philosophical  tend- 
ency. He  took  another  and  far  greater  step  when  he  emphatic- 
ally proclaimed  that  Physics  was  “ the  mother  of  all  the  sciences.” 
That  this  was  greatly  in  advance  of  his  age  may  be  gathered 
from  the  fact  of  its  to  this  day  remaining  a heresy ; the  notion  ol 
ethics  and  politics  having  the  same  methods,  and  being  suscep- 
tible of  the  same  treatment  as  physics,  is  by  the  majority  looked 
upon  as  fanciful,  if  not  absurd. 

Speaking  of  the  causes  of  errors  in  preceding  philosophers, 
Bacon  says,  “A  second  cause  of  very  great  moment  is,  that 
29 


BACON. 


il4 

tlirougli  all  those  ages  wherein  men  of  genius  and  learning  prio' 
cipally  or  even  moderately  flourished,  the  smallest  part  of  human 
industry  has  been  spent  upon  natural  philosophy,  though  this 
ought  to  he  esteemed  as  the  great  mother  of  the  sciences  ; for  all 
the  rest,  if  torn  from  this  root,  may  perhaps  be  polished  and 
formed  for  use,  but  can  receive  little  iuci'ease.  . . . 

“But  let  none  expect  any  great  promotion  of  the  sciences, 
especially  in  their  effective  part,  unless  natural  philosophy  he 
drawn  out  to  particular  sciences  ; and  again,  unless  these  partic- 
ular sciences  be  brought  back  again  to  natural  philosophy.  From 
this  defect  it  is  that  astronomy,  optics,  music,  many  mechanical 
arts,  and  what  seems  stranger,  even  moral  and  civil  philosophy 
and  logic,  rise  but  little  above  their  foundations,  and  only  skim 
over  the  varieties  and  surfaces  of  things,  viz.  because  after  these 
particular  sciences  are  formed  and  divided  off,  they  are  no  longer 
nourished  by  natural  philosophy,  which  might  give  them  strength 
and  increase  ; and  therefore  no  wonder  if  the  sciences  thrive  not, 
when  separated  from  their  roots.”* 

It  was  in  consequence  of  his  having  so  profoundly  penetrated 
the  very  nature  of  science  that  Bacon  was  able  “ to  lay  down  the 
rules  for  the  conduct  of  experimental  inquiries,  before  any  such 
inquiries  had  yet  been  instituted.  The  power  and  compass  of  a 
mind  which  could  form  such  a plan  beforehand,  and  trace  not 
merely  the  outline,  but  many  of  the  most  minute  ramifications  oi 
sciences  which  did  not  yet  exist,  must  be  an  object  of  admiration 
to  all  succeeding  ages.”f 

In  his  separation  of  Science  from  Metaphysics  and  Theology, 
and  in  his  conception  of  Physics  as  the  mother  of  all  the  sciences, 
we  see  the  eminently  yjosifeTe  spirit  of  his  works  ; and  this  makes 
him  so  entirely  a modern.  He  was  indeed  thoroughly  opposed 
to  antiquity,  and  epigrammatically  exposed  the  fallacy  of  undue 
reverence.  “ The  opinion  which  men  entertain  of  antiquity  is  a 
very  idle  thing,”  said  he,  “ and  almost  incongruous  to  the  word 


Novum  Organum,  i.  Aph.  79,  80. 


+ P.ayfair. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  BACON ’s  METHOD. 


415 


for  the  old-age  and  length  of  days  of  the  world  should  in  reality 
oe  accounted  antiquity,  and  ought  to  be  attributed  to  our  own 
times,  not  to  the  youth  of  the  world  which  it  enjoyed  among  the 
ancients ; for  that  age,  though  with  respect  to  us  it  be  ancient 
and  greater,  vet  with  regard  to  the  world  it  was  new  and  less.”* 
He  bore  testimony  to  the  genius  of  several  of  the  ancients, 
while  he  declared  that  their  genius  availed  them  nothing,  be- 
cause wrongly  employed;  adding,  in  his  usual  happy  style,  “a 
cripple  m the  right  way  may  beat  a racer  in  the  wrong  one. 
Nay,  the  fleeter  the  racer  is,  who  has  once  missed  his  way,  the 
farther  he  leaves  it  behind.”  “ We  have  an  example,”  he  says, 
“ in  Aristotle,  who  corrupted  natural  philosophy  with  Logic,  . . . 
being  all  along  more  solicitous  how  men  might  defend  them- 
selves by  answers,  and  advance  something  that  should  be  positive 
in  words,  than  to  come  at  the  inward  truth  of  nature.  ...  It 
is  true  his  books  of  animals,  problems,  and  other  pieces,  make 
frequent  use  of  experiments ; but  then  he  flrst  pronounced  with- 
out their  assistance,  and  did  not  duly  consult  experience  in  form- 
ing his  degrees  and  axioms  ; but  after  he  had  passed  judgment 
according  to  his  own  humor,  he  winds  experience  round,  and 
leads  her  captive  to  his  own  opinions.  . . . Another  great  reason 
of  the  slow  progress  of  the  sciences  is  this : that  it  is  impossible 
to  proceed  well  in  a course  where  the  end  is  not  rightly  fixed 
and  defined.  Now,  the  true  and  genuine  end  of  the  sciences  is 
no  other  than  to  enrich  human  life  with  new  inventions  and  new 
powers.  . . . Fruits  and  discoveries  of  works  are  as  the  vouchers 
and  securities  for  the  truth  of  philosophies.  But  from  the  phi- 
losophies of  the  Greeks,  and  their  descents  through  particular 
sciences,  now  for  the  space  of  so  many  years  scarce  a single  ex- 
periment can  be  produced  tending  to  accommodate  or  improve 


* It  is  a point  of  some  interest  to  aseertain  from  whom  Bacon  got  the 
aphorism  he  frequently  quotes ; “ Antiquity  the  youth  of  the  world.”  The 
idea  is  in  Seneca,  and  is  thus  expressed  by  Roger  Bacon ; “ Quanto  juniorea 
tanto  perspicaciores,  quia  juniores,  posteriores  sucoessione  temporuin,  ingro- 
diuntur  labores  priorum.” — Opus  Majus,  pars  i.  cap.  6,  p.  9. 


BACON. 


il6 

the  state  of  man,  that  may  he  justly  attributed  to  the  speculations 
and  doctrines  of  their  philosophy.  . . . Therefore,  since  the  end 
of  the  sciences  has  not  hitherto  been  well  defined  by  any  one, 
we  need  not  wonder  if  men  have  erred  and  wandered  in  the 
things  subservient  to  the  proper  end.  Again,  if  this  end  had 
been  rightly  proposed,  yet  men  have  chosen  a very  wrong  and 
hnpassable  way  to  proceed  in.  And  it  may  strike  any  one  with 
astonishment  who  duly  considers  it,  that  no  mortal  should  hither- 
to have  taken  care  to  open  and  prepare  a way  for  the  human  un- 
derstanding, from  sense  and  a well-conducted  experience ; but  that 
all  things  should  be  left  either  to  the  darkness  of  tradition,  the 
giddy  agitation  and  whirlwind  of  argument,  or  else  to  the  uncer- 
tain waves  of  accident,  or  a vague  and  uninformed  experience. 
Let  any  one  soberly  consider  what  the  way  is  which  men  have 
accustomed  themselves  to,  in  the  inquiry  and  discovery  of  any 
thing,  and  he  will  doubtless  find  that  the  manner  of  invention 
most  commonly  used  is  simple  and  unartful : or  on  no  other 
than  this,  viz.  when  a person  goes  upon  an  inquiry,  in  the  first 
place  he  searches  out  and  peruses  what  has  been  said  upon  it  by 
others ; in  the  next  place  adds  his  own  thoughts  thereto ; and 
lastly,  with  great  struggle  of  the  mind,  solicits  and  invokes,  as 
it  were,  his  own  spirit  to  deliver  him  oracles ; which  is  a method 
entirely  destitute  of  foundation,  and  rolls  wholly  upon  opinions. 
Others  may  call  in  the  assistance  of  logic ; but  this  is  wholly  a 
nominal  assistance,  for  logic  does  not  discover  the  principles  and 
capital  axioms  upon  which  arts  are  built,  but  only  such  as  seem 
agreeable  thereto ; and  when  men  are  curious  and  earnest  with 
it,  to  procure  proofs,  and  discover  principles  or  first  axioms,  it 
refers  them  to  faith,  or  puts  them  oflT  with  this  trite  and  common 
answer — that  every  artist  must  believe  in  his  own  art.” 

Dugald  Stewart^  well  says,  “ that  the  idea  of  the  object  of  phy- 
sical science  (which  may  be  justly  regarded  as  the  groundwork 


* In  the  excellent  Chapter  on  Induction,  PMlos.  of  Mind,  vol.  ii.  ch.  iv. 
sect.  1. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  BACON’s  METHOD. 


417 


of  Bacon’s  Novum  Organurti)  differs  essentially  from  what  was 
entertained  by  the  ancients,  according  to  whom  ‘ Philosophy  is 
the  science  of  causes'  If  indeed  by  causes  they  had  meant 
merely  the  constant  forerunners  or  antecedents  of  events,  the  de- 
finition would  have  coincided  nearly  with  the  statement  which 
I have  given.  But  it  is  evident  that  by  causes  they  meant  such 
antecedents  as  were  necessarily  connected  with  the  effects,  and 
from  the  knowledge  of  which  the  effects  might  be  foreseen  and 
demonstrated.  And  it  was  owing  to  this  confusion  of  the  proper 
objects  of  Physics  and  Metaphysics  that,  neglecting  the  observa- 
tion of  facts  exposed  to  the  examination  of  their  senses,  they 
vainly  attempted,  by  synthetical  reasoning,  to  deduce,  as  neces- 
sary consequences  from  their  supposed  causes,  the  phenomena 
and  laws  of  nature.” 

Dugald  Stewart  also  quotes  Aristotle’s  express  declaration, 
that  to  know  the  physical  cause  is  also  to  know  the  efficient  cause  ; 
and  observes,  that  from  this  disposition  to  confound  efficient  with 
physical  causes,  may  be  traced  the  greater  part  of  the  theories 
recorded  in  the  history  of  philosophy.  It  is  this  which  has  given 
rise  to  the  attempts,  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times,  to  ac- 
count for  all  the  phenomena  of  moving  bodies  by  impulse  ; and 
it  is  this,  also,  which  has  suggested  the  simpler  expedient  of  ex- 
plaining them  by  the  agency  of  minds  united  with  the  particles 
of  matter.  To  this  last  class  of  theories  may  also  be  referred  the 
explanations  of  physical  phenomena  by  such  causes  as  sympa- 
thies, antipathies,  nature’s  horror  of  a vacuum,  etc.,  and  other 
phrases  borrowed  by  analogy  from  the  attributes  of  animated 
beings. 

It  was  Bacon’s  constant  endeavor,  as  it  has  been  the  cause  of 
his  enduring  fame,  to  teach  men  the  real  object  of  Science,  and 
the  scope  of  their  faculties,  and  to  furnish  them  with  a proper 
Method  whereon  these  faculties  might  be  successfully  employed. 
He  thus  not  only  stands  clear'-ly  out  in  history  as  the  exponent 
of  the  long-agitated  antagonism  to  all  the  ancient  and  scholastic 
thinkers,  but  al«o  as  the  exponent  of  the  rapidly  increasing  ten- 


418 


BACON. 


dency  towards  positive  science.  He  is  essentially  modern.  All 
his  predecessors,  even  in  their  boldest  attacks  upon  ancient 
philosophy,  were  themselves  closely  allied  to  the  spirit  of  tha* 
which  they  opposed.  Ramus  is  the  child  of  Aristotle,  though 
he  raised  his  hand  against  his  father.  But  Bacon  was  modern 
ill  culture,  in  object,  and  in  method.  He  attacked  the  ancient 
philosophy  without  having  thoroughly  understood  it : he  attacked 
it,  because  he  saw  that  a method  which  conducted  great  intelli- 
gences to  such  absurd  conclusions  as  those  then  in  vogue,  must 
necessarily  be  false. 

“Whence  can  arise,”  he  asks,  “such  vagueness  and  sterility 
in  all  the  physical  systems  which  have  hitherto  existed  in  the 
world?  It  is  not,  certainly,  from  any  thing  in  nature  itself;  for 
the  steadiness  and  regularity  of  the  laws  hy  which  it  is  governed^ 
clearly  mark  them  out  as  objects  of  precise  and  certain  knowledge. 

“ Neither  can  it  arise  from  any  want  of  ability  in  those  who 
have  pursued  such  inquiries,  many  of  whom  have  been  men  of 
the  highest  talent  and  genius  of  the  ages  in  which  they  lived ; 
and  it  can  therefore  arise  from  nothing  else  but  the  perverseness 
and  insufficiency  of  the  methods  which  have  been  pursued.  Men 
have  sought  to  make  a world  from  their  own  conceptions,  and  to 
draw  from  their  own  minds  all  the  materials  which  they  em- 
ployed ; but  if,  instead  of  doing  so,  they  had  consulted  experi- 
ence and  observation,  they  would  have  had  facts,  and  not  opin- 
ions, to  reason  about,  and  might  have  ultimately  arrived  at  the 
knowledge  of  the  laws  which  govern  the  material  world. 

“ As  things  are  at  present  conducted,  a sudden  transition  is 
made  from  sensible  objects  and  particular  facts  to  general  propo- 
sitions, which  are  accounted  principles,  and  round  v/hich,  as  round 
so  many  fixed  polls,  disputation  and  argument  continually  re- 
volve. From  the  propositions  thus  hastily  assumed,  all  things 
are  derived  by  a process  compendious  and  precipitate,  ill  suited  to 
discovery,  but  wonderfully  accommodated  to  debate. 

“ The  way  that  promises  success  is  the  reverse  of  this.  It  re- 
quires that  we  should  generalize  slowly,  going  from  particular 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful?  419 

things  to  those  that  are  but  one  step  more  general ; from  those 
to  others  of  still  greater  extent,  and  so  on  to  such,  as  are  universal. 
By  such  means  we  may  hope  to  arrive  at  principles,  not  vague 
and  obscure,  but  luminous  and  well-defined,  such  as  Nature  her- 
self will  not  refuse  to  acknowledge.” 

In  this  pregnant  passage  he  has  clearly  enough  pointed  out 
the  position  which  his  philosophy  was  to  occupy.  “ Many  other 
philosophers,”  as  Professor  Macvey  Napier  remarks,  “ both  an- 
cient and  modern,  had  referred  to  observation  and  experiment  in 
a cursory  way,  as  furnishing  the  materials  ^f  physical  knowl- 
edge ; but  no  one  before  him  had  attempted  to  systematize  the 
true  method  of  discovery  ; or  to  prove  that  the  inductive  is  the 
only  method  by  which  the  genuine  office  of  philosophy  can  be 
exercised,  and  its  genuine  ends  accomplished.  It  has  sometimes 
been  stated  that  Galileo  was,  at  least,  in  an  equal  degree  with 
Bacon,  the  father  of  the  Inductiv^e  Logic ; but  it  would  be  more 
correct  to  say  that  his  discoveries  furnished  some  fortunate  illus- 
trations of  its  principles.  To  explain  these  principles  was  no 
object  of  his ; nor  does  he  manifest  any  great  anxiety  to  recom- 
mend their  adoption  with  a view  to  the  general  improvement  of 
science.  The  Aristotelian  disputant,  in  his  celebrated  Dialogues, 
is  made  frequently  to  appeal  to  observation  and  experiment ; but 
the  interlocutor,  through  whom  Galileo  himself  speaks,  nowhere 
takes  occasion  to  distinguish  between  the  flimsy  inductions  of 
the  Stagirite,  in  regard  to  the  objects  in  dispute,  and  those  which 
he  himself  had  instituted,  or  to  hint  at  the  very  different  com- 
plexion which  philosophy  must  assume,  according  as  the  one 
kind  or  the  other  is  resorted  to.”* 

§ IV.  Was  the  Method  New  and  Useful? 

Bacon’s  Method,  and  the  scientific  spirit  which  animates  his 
works,  hftve  been  indicated  in  the  foregoing  pages.  His  philo- 
sophical importance  is  to  be  measured  by  that  Method  and  that 


* On  the  Scope  and  Influence  of  the  Philos.  Writings  of  Bacon, : Trans,  of 
the  Eoyal  Society  of  Edinburgh,  1818. 


i20 


BACON. 


spirit;  not  by  any  scientific  discoveries.  A mind  so  riclily  stored 
could  not  fiiil  to  illustrate  his  writings  with  manifold  graces  of 
style,  and  with  pregnant  aphorisms.  Accordingly,  his  Method 
having  been  established,  and  been  superseded,  having  done  its 
work,  nothing  remains  for  our  profit  but  these  very  graces  and 
aphorisms.  The  great  reformer  may  excite  our  admiration,  his- 
torically ; his  Method  excites  no  admiration  for  its  present  in- 
trinsic value.  We  have  a more  perfect  Method ; the  processes 
of  scientific  investigation  are  better  understood ; but  we  are  never 
in  communion  with  his  vast  and  penetrating  intellect  without 
acknowledging  his  greatness;  for  his  remarks  are  often  as  appli- 
cable now  as  they  were  when  first  written.  Hence  the  frequency 
of  quotations  from  Bacon  ; and  these  quotations,  as  Dr.  Whewell 
observes,  are  more  frequently  made  by  metaphysical,  ethical,  and 
even  theological  writers,  than  they  are  by  the  authors  of  works 
on  Physics.  For  the  present  generation,  then,  whatever  the  value 
of  Bacon’s  works.  Bacon’s  Method  is  useless.  Some  modern  wri- 
ters have  asserted  that  it  was  always  useless ; and  this  assertion 
has  been  supported  by  arguments  so  plausible,  that  they  demand 
attention. 

The  objections  made  to  Bacon’s  Method  are  of  three  kinds. 
1st.  It  was  nothing  new ; 2d.  It  was  useless  as  a guide  to  inves- 
tigation ; 3d.  It  was  .already  latent  in  the  scientific  spirit  then 
abroad,  and  must  have  been  elicited  by  some  one,  sooner  or 
later. 

“ It  was  nothing  new.”  This  is  a very  frequent  objection,  and 
is  urged  by  the  Count  Joseph  de  Maistre  and  Mr.  Macaulay 
The  former  has  written  a long  chapter  to  prove  that  Bacon’s  In 
duction  is  nothing  more  than  the  Induction  of  Aristotle ; and 
Mr.  Macaulay,  who  adopts  the  same  opinion,  devotes  several  viva- 
cious pages  to  show  that  everybody  unconsciously  practices  this 
inductive  Method.  M.  de  Maistre’s  Examen  de  la  Philosophic  de 
Bacon  is  a vehement  attack,  written  with  the  celebrated  author’s 
usual  vivacity,  but  with  more  than  his  usual  arrogance  and  ve- 
hemence. As  there  are  many  things  in  Bacon  hasty,  inexact,  or 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful?  421 


partaking  of  the  prejudices  and  errors  of  his  age,  his  antagonist 
is  at  no  loss  to  find  matter  for  ridicule ; but  when  he  treats  of 
Bacon’s  Method  and  Spirit  as  contemptible  puerilities,  he  only  ex- 
cites a smile  in  the  dispassionate  reader.  His  arguments  against 
Bacon’s  Method  are,  first,  that  Aristotle  had  analyzed  it  before 
him ; secondly,  that  Induction  is  only  one  form  of  the  Syllogism. 

It  is  true  that  Aristotle  told  us  what  Induction  was  ; but  it  is 
not  true  that  he  analyzed  it,  as  Bacon  has  done ; nor  did  he  ever 
pronounce  it  to  be  the  Method  of  inquiry : on  the  contrary,  it 
only  served  him  as  one  of  the  means  of  ascertaining  truth,  and 
was  not  so  important  in  his  eyes  as  the  Syllogism.  Bacon  asserts 
Induction  to  be  the  only  Method ; and  has  no  words  too  strong 
to  express  his  scorn  of  the  Syllogism,  “ which  may  catch  the  as- 
sent, but  lets  the  things  slip  through.”  Dugald  Stewart  observes 
that  we  might  as  well  declare  that  the  ancients  had  anticipated 
Newton  because  they  too  used  the  word  “attraction,”  as  that  Ar- 
istotle anticipated  Bacon  because  he  too  speaks  of  “ Induction.”* 
This  is,  however,  going  too  far  the  other  way.  In  our  Chapter 
on  the  Stagirite  we  have  indicated  the  relation  in  which  the  two 
conceptions  stand  to  each  other. 

M.  de  Maistre  says  that  Induction  and  Syllogism  are  the  same. 
“ At  bottom,  what  is  Induction  ? Aristotle  clearly  saw  it ; It  is 
a syllogism  without  the  middle  term — gtfvi  hi  6 rowurog  (tuXXoy)(tp.og 
r^g  ■ffpw'rrjj  xai  dp.g'o'ou  ‘rporarfswff.  (Anal.  Prior,  ii.  12.)  What 
does  it  signify  whether  I say.  Every  simple  being  is  indestructible 
by  nature ; now  my  soul  is  a simple  being,  therefore,  etc. ; or 
whether  I say  directly.  My  soul  is  simple,  it  is  therefore  inde- 
structible. In  either  case  it  is  the  syllogism  which  is  virtually 
in  the  induction,  as  it  is  in  the  enthymeme,” 

Now  it  is  quite  true  that  every  induction  may  be  thrown  into 
the  form  of  a syllogism  by  supplying  the  major  premise ; and 
it  is  this  which  led  Archbishop  Whately  to  conclude  that  Induc- 
tion itself  is  but  a peculiar  case  of  ratiocination,  and  that  the 
universal  type  of  all  reasoning  is  the  syllogism.  We  cannot  but 

* Philos,  of  Mind,  vol.  ii.  ch.  iv.  sect.  2. 


i22 


BACON. 


agree  with  Jolm  Mill  in  holding  precisely  the  reverse  opinion, 
and  believing  that  ratiocination  itself  is  resolvable  into  Induc- 
tion.^' Be  this  as  it  may,  M.  de  Maistre  has  afforded  us  an  illus- 
tration of  the  difterence  between  Aristotle  and  Bacon  in  the  very 
passage  quoted. 

If  every  induction  can  be  thrown  into  the  form  of  a syllogism, 
by  supplying  the  major  premise,  it  is  in  the  way  this  major 
premise  is  established  that  we  must  seek  the  real  difference  be- 
tween the  Syllogistic  and  Inductive  Methods  : and  that  difference 
IS  the  difference  between  a priori  and  d posteriori.  Every  one 
who  has  read  Bacon,  knows  that  his  scorn  for  the  Syllogism  is 
not  scorn  for  it  as  a form  of  ratiocination,  but  as  a means  of  in~ 
vestigation.  He  objects  to  our  proceeding  to  deduce  from  an 
axiom  not  accurately  and  inductively  obtained,  consequences 
which  may  very  well  be  contained  in  the  axiom,  although  hav- 
ing no  relation  to  the  truth  of  things.  “The  axioms  in  use,  be- 
ing derived  from  slender  experience  and  a few  obvious  particu- 
lars, are  generally  applied  in  a corresponding  manner ; no  won- 
der they  lead  not  to  new  particulars.”!  Again : “ Syllogism 
consists  of  propositions,  propositions  of  words,  and  words  are 
the  signs  of  notions ; therefore,  if  our  notions,  the  basis  of  all, 
are  confused,  and  over-hastily  taken  from  things,  nothing  that  is 
built  upon  them  can  be  firm ; whence  our  only  hope  rests  upon 
genuine  Induction!''''^ 

Nothing  can  be  more  explicit.  Bacon  very  well  knew  the  dif- 
ference between  his  Method  and  that  of  the  Aristotelians ; and 
he  very  well  expressed  this  difterence.  To  turn  round  upon  him 
and  say  all  Induction  is  itself  but  Syllogism,  is  mere  evasion. 
He  was  not  giving  a logical  analysis  of  the  mind : he  was  warn- 
ing men  against  long-standing  errors,  and  pointing  out  to  them 
the  path  of  truth. 

Mr.  Macaulay’s  arguments  are  of  a different  stamp.  To  us 
they  are  only  ingenious  and  plausible ; yet  so  ingenious  and  so 

* See  System  of  Logic,  vol.  i.  pp.  372-3. 

+ Novum  Organum,  Aph.  25.  % Ibid.,  Aph.  14. 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful?  423 


plausible  as  to  gain  many  followers.  They  are  mostly  true  aa 
far  as  they  go,  but  do  not  appear  to  us  to  go  to  the  real  point. 
We  shall  select  the  main  parts  of  his  opposition : 

“ The  inductive  method  has  been  practised  ever  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  world,  by  every  human  being.  It  is  constantly 
practised  by  the  most  Ignorant  clown,  who  by  this  method  is  led 
to  the  conclusion,  that  if  he  sows  barley  he  shall  not  reap  wheat. 
A plain  man  finds  his  stomach  out  of  order.  He  never  heard  ot 
Lord  Bacon’s  name ; but  he  proceeds  in  the  strictest  conformity 
with  the  rules  laid  down  in  the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Or- 
gunum,  and  satisfies  himself  that  mince-pies  have  done  the  mis- 
chief. ‘ I ate  mince-pies  on  Monday  and  Wednesday,  and  was 
kept  awake  by  indigestion  all  night.’  T'his  is  the  comparentia 
ad  intellectum  instantiarum  convenientmm.  ‘ I did  not  eat  any  on 
Tuesday  and  Friday,  and  I was  quite  well.’  This  is  the  comparentia 
instantiarum  hi  proximo  quae  natura  data  privantur.  ‘I  ate 
very  sparingly  of  them  on  Sunday,  and  was  very  slightly  indis- 
posed in  the  evening.  But  on  Christmas-day  I almost  dined  on 
them,  and  was  so  ill  that  I was  in  some  danger.’  This  is  the 
comparentia  instantiarum  secundum  magis  et  minus.  ‘ It  cannot 
be  the  brandy  which  I took  with  them  ; for  I have  drunk  brandy 
for  years,  without  being  the  worse  for  it.’  This  is  the  rejectio 
naturarum.  We  might  easily  proceed,  but  we  have  already  suf- 
ficiently explained  our  meaning.” 

The  answer  to  this  is,  that  Induction  being  the  process  of  all 
reasoning,  of  course  so  long  as  men  have  reasoned  they  have 
reasoned  inductively.  But  there  is  simple  and  incautious  Induc- 
tion, and  there  is  cautious  methodical  Induction, — instinct  and 
science ; in  ordinary  cases,  men  pursue  the  induction  per  enu- 
merationeni  simplicem  ; in  scientific  investigations  they  must  pur- 
sue a very  different  method ; and  at  the  time  Bacon  wrote,  al- 
most all  philosophical  and  scientific  speculations  were  vitiated  by 
the  incorrect  method. 

“ Those  who  object  to  the  importance  of  Bacon’s  precepts  in 
philosophy,”  says  Mr.  Hallam,  “that  mankind  have  practised 


m 


BACON. 


many  of  them  immeraorialljr,  are  rather  confirming  their  utility 
than  taking  off  much  from  their  originality,  in  any  fair  sense  of 
the  term.  Every  logical  method  is  built  on  the  common  facul- 
ties of  human  nature,  which  have  been  exercised  since  the  crea- 
tion, in  discerning — better  or  worse — truth  from  falsehood,  and 
inferring  the  unknown  from  the  known.  That  men  might  have 
done  this  more  correctly,  is  manifest  from  the  quantity  of  error 
into  which,  from  want  of  reasoning  well  on  what  came  before 
them,  they  have  habitually  fallen.  In  experimental  philosophy, 
to  which  the  more  special  rules  of  Lord  Bacon  are  generally  re- 
ferred, there  was  a notorious  want  of  that  very  process  of  reason- 
ing which  he  supplied.”*  “Nothing  can  be  more  certain,”  as 
Professor  Napier  observes,  “than  that  Bacon  rests  the  whole 
hopes  of  his  philosophy  on  the  novelty  of  his  logical  precepts ; 
and  that  he  uniformly  represents  the  ancient  philosophers,  par- 
ticularly Aristotle,  as  having  been  wholly  regardless  of  the  in 
ductive  method  in  their  physical  inquiries.  Bacon  does  not  in- 
deed say  that  the  ancient  philosophers  never  employed  themselves 
in  observing  Nature ; but  he  maintains  that  there  is  a wide  dif- 
ference between  observation,  as  it  was  employed  by  them,  and 
the  art  of  observing  for  the  purposes  of  philosophical  discovery 
Men  in  Bacon’s  time  reasoned  like  the  facetious  judge  in  Mr. 
Macaulay’s  anecdote,  “who  was  in  the  habit  of  jocosely  pro- 
pounding, after  dinner,  a theory,  that  the  cause  of  the  prevalence 
of  Jacobinism  was  the  practice  of  bearing  three  names.  He 
quoted,  on  the  one  side,  Charles  James  Fox,  Richard  Brinsley 
Sheridan,  John  Horne  Tooke,  John  Philpot  Curran,  Samuel 
Taylor  Coleridge,  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone.  These  were  instantim 
convenientes.  He  then  proceeded  to  cite  instances  ahsentice  in 
'proximo — William  Pitt,  John  Scott,  William  Wyndham,  Samuel 
Horsley,  Henry  Dundas,  Edmund  Burke.  He  might  have  gone 


* Hist,  of  Lit.  of  Europe,  iii.  182. 

t Dissertation  on  the  Scope  and  Influenoe  of  Bacon's  Writings,  p.  13.  See, 
also,  a passage  to  the  same  effect  in  Herschel’s  Discourse,  pp.  113,  114,  whioh 
we  do  not  quote,  because  the  work  is  in  everybody’s  hands. 


WAS  BACOJSl's  METHOD  NEW  AND  USEFUL?  425 


on  to  instances  secundum  magis  et  minus.  The  practice  of  giv- 
ing children  three  names  has  been  for  some  time  a growing  prac- 
tice, and  Jacobinism  has  also  been  growing.  The  practice  of 
giving  children  three  names  is  more  common  in  America  than 
in  England.  In  England  we  have  still  a King  and  a House  of 
Lords ; but  the  Americans  are  Republicans.  The  rejectiones  are 
obvious.  Burke  and  Wolfe  Tone  were  both  Irishmen;  therefore 
the  being  an  Irishman  is  not  the  cause.  In  this  way  our  induc- 
tive philosopher  arrives  at  what  Bacon  calls  the  vintage,  and 
pronounces  that  having  three  names  is  the  cause  of  Jacobinism.” 
This  is  a very  good  theoiy  for  a jocular  one ; but  we  are  sur- 
prised to  find  so  acute  a writer  as  Mr.  Macaulay  speaking  of  it  in 
the  terms  he  does  J “ Here  is  an  induction  corresponding  with 
Bacon’s  analysis,  and  ending  in  a monstrous  absurdity.  In 
what  then  does  this  induction  difier  from  the  induction  which 
leads  us  to  the  conclusion  that  the  presence  of  the  sun  is  the 
cause  of  our  having  more  light  by  day  than  by  night?  The 
difference  evidently  is,  not  in  the  kind  of  instances,  hut  in  the 
number  of  instances  ; that  is  to  say,  the  difference  is  not  in  that 
part  of  the  process  for  which  Bacon  has  given  precise  rules,  but 
in  a circumstance  for  which  no  precise  rule  can  possibly  be  given. 
If  the  learned  author  of  the  theory  about  Jacobinism  had  en- 
larged either  of  the  tables  a little,  his  system  would  have  been 
destroyed.  The  names  of  Tom  Paine  and  William  Windham 
Grenville  would  have  been  sufficient  to  do  the  work.” 

We  especially  dissent  from  the  clause  printed  in  italics,  which 
seems  to  us  at  variance  with  all  sound  Induction.  It  is  precisely 
the  kind  of  instances  adduced  in  the  theory,  which  makes  the 
theory  absurd.  The  whole  theory  is  a gross  example  of  “ causa- 
tion inferred  from  casual  conjunction,  without  any  presumption 
arising  Irom  known  properties  of  the  supposed  agent : which  is 
the  characteristic  of  empiricism.”  Although  in  this  theory  there 
has  been  a certain  superficial  elimination  employed,  yet  that  elim- 
ination is  obviously  too  incomplete  for  any  satisfactory  result. 
Mr.  Macaulay  subsequently  asks.  What  number  of  instances  is 


BACON. 


m 

sufficient  to  justify  belief?  After  how  many  experiments  would 
Tenner  have  been  justified  in  believing  vaccination  to  be  a safe- 
guard against  the  smallpox?  We  answer  that  the  number  o{ 
instances  depends  on  the  kind  of  instances,  and  on  the  theory 
which  presides  over  their  collection.  In  proportion  as  the  facts 
adduced  are  complex,  must  the  theory  which  would  explain 
them  be  consistent  with  all  other  known  truths,  before  the  facts 
themselves  can  have  any  significance. 

Bacon’s  originality  is  in  no  way  affected  by  pioving  that  all 
men  at  all  times,  when  they  reasoned  correctly,  reasoned  induc- 
tively. Moreover,  in  Bacon’s  particular  department,  men  had 
notoriously  pursued  a wrong  Method.*  They  were  not  aware  of 
the  necessity,  which  he  declared  there  was  in  all  investigations, 
to  proceed  upon  a graduated  and  successive  Induction.  Bacon 
first  made  them  aware  of  this;  and,  as  Dr.  Whewell  says,  “the 
truly  remarkable  circumstance  is  to  find  this  recommendation  of 
a continuous  advance  from  observation,  by  limited  steps,  through 
successive  gradations  of  generality,  given  at  a time  when  specu- 
lative men  in  general  had  only  just  begun  to  perceive  that  they 
must  begin  their  course  from  experience  in  some  way  or  other. 

. . . In  catching  sight  of  this  principle,  and  in  ascribing  to  it 
its  due  importance,  Bacon’s  sagacity,  so  far  as  I am  aware, 
wrought  unassisted  and  unrivalled.”f 

The  second  question  now  presents  itself.  Was  the  method 
useful  as  a guide  in  investigation  ? Many  persons  have  declared 
it  to  be  useless.  Mr.  Macaulay  is  of  the  same  opinion.  He  says, 
with  great  truth,  “By  stimulating  men  to  the  discovery  of  new 
truth,  Bacon  stimulated  them  to  employ  the  inductive  method— 


* And  this  in  spite  of  the  warning  so  emphatically  given  three  centuries 
before  Francis  Bacon,  by  his  great  namesake  Roger  Bacon;  “Sine  experien- 
tia  nihil  sufficienter  sciri  potest.  Duo  enim  sunt  modi  cognoscendi,  scilicet 
per  argumentum  et  experimentum.  Argumentum  concludit  et  faoit  nos  con- 
cludere  qusestionem,  sed  non  certifioat  neque  removet  dubitationem,  ut 
quiescat  animus  in  intuitu  veritatis,  nisi  cam  inveniat  vift  experientiae.” — 
Opus  Majus,  pars  vi.  cap.  i. 
t Fldlos.  of  Inductive  Sciences,  ii.  835,  396. 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful?  427 

the  only  method  by  ■which  truth  can  be  discovered.  By  stimu- 
lating men  to  the  discovery  of  useful  truth,  he  furnished  them 
with  a motive  to  perform  the  inductive  process  well  and  care- 
fully. His  predecessors  had  been  anticipators  of  Nature.  They 
had  been  content  with  first  principles,  at  which  they  had  ar- 
rived by  the  most  scanty  and  slovenly  induction.  And  why  was 
this?  It  was,  we  conceive,  because  their  philosophy  proposed 
to  itself  no  practical  end,  because  it  was  merely  an  exercise  of 
the  mind.  A man  who  wants  to  contrive  a new  machine,  or  a 
new  medicine,  has  a strong  motive  to  observe  patiently  and  ac- 
curately, and  to  try  experiment  after  experiment;  but  a man 
who  merely  wants  a theme  for  disputation,  or  declamation,  has 
no  such  motive.” 

Now  in  this  passage,  as  it  seems  to  us,  the  very  merit  we  are 
claiming  for  Bacon  is  conceded.  We  are  told  that  Bacon  stimu- 
lated men  to  employ  the  Inductive  Method — the  only  method  by 
which  new  truth  could  be  discovered.  Who  pointed  out  the  futil- 
ity of  anticipating  Nature? — Bacon.  Who  exposed  the  “scanty 
and  slovenly  induction”  of  the  Schoolmen  ? — Bacon.  His  merit 
is  not  simply  that  of  stimulating  men  to  the  discovery  of  new 
lands,  but  of  also  affording  them  chart  and  compass  wherewith  to 
discover  the  new  lands.  There  were  sev^eral  eminent  men,  his 
predecessors  and  contemporaries,  who  all  rose  up  against  the  an- 
cient systems,  and  stimulated  men  to  the  discovery  of  useful  truth ; 
but  these  men,  although  all  of  them  constantly  insisted  upon  ob- 
servation and  experiment,  had  no  glimpse,  or  only  a very  partial 
and  confused  glimpse,  of  the  Inductive  Method.  So  that  when 
Mr.  Macaulay  says,  “ It  was  not  by  furnishing  philosophers  with 
rules  for  performing  the  inductive  process  well,  but  by  furnishing 
them  with  a motive  for  performing  it  well,  that  he  conferred  so 
vast  a benefit  on  society,”  we  believe  he  is  contradicted,  on  all 
sides,  by  history.  The  motive  had  been  given  by  many — indeed, 
one  may  say  that  it  was  a tendency  of  the  age ; the  rules  had 
been  devised  by  no  one  but  himself.  These  rules,  it  is  true,  were 
^r  from  perfect ; but  they  constitute  the  beginning,  and  form  the 


i28 


BACON. 


basis  of  tbe  more  perfect  structure  ■nbicli  successors  have  erected 
Mr.  hlacaulay’s  argumeut  receives  its  force  solely  from  what  we 
cannot  but  regard  as  his  misconception  of  the  Baconian  Induction. 
That  Induction  he  declares  to  be  daily  performed  by  every  man  ; 
but  this  is  confounding  ordinary  Induction  with  scientific  Induc- 
tion. It  is  confounding  a simple  inference,  with  a long  and  com- 
plicated process  of  inference.  It  is  confounding  what  Bacon  in- 
cessantly and  emphatically  distinguishes,  viz.  Induction  with  the 
Inductive  Method ; and  this  confusion  has  probably  influenced 
him  in  the  selection  of  his  illustrations.  None  of  the  things  he 
has  named  require  a complicated  process  of  reasoning  for  their 
discovery.  If  a man  wants  to  make  a shoe,  he  needs  inductions, 
but  is  certainly  in  no  need  of  the  Inductive  Method ; if  he  wants 
to  discover  a law  of  Nature,  the  Inductive  Method  is  indispensa- 
ble. Mr.  Macaulay  will  not  maintain  that  the  ordinary  man,  who 
wishes  to  find  out  a law  of  Nature,  proceeds  in  his  inquiry  by  a 
graduated  and  successive  Induction  from  particulars  to  generals, 
and  from  generals  to  those  which  are  still  more  general ; and  this 
without  “anticipation”  of  Nature — without  rash  and  hasty  leap- 
ing from  one  particular  to  some  extreme  generality.  In  fact, 
although  Induction^  as  the  type  of  reasoning,  must  be  carried 
on  by  every  reasoning  animal,  yet  so  far  is  the  Inductive  Method 
from  being  the  ordinary  process  of  ordinary  men,  that  we  know 
of  scarcely  any  process  so  contrary  to  the  natural  bias  of  the 
mind.  Bacon  has  more  than  once  alluded  to  this  bias,  which 
makes  us  judge  hastiljq  and  on  the  slenderest  evidence.  In- 
deed, the  Inductive  Method  requires  a constant  and  watchful 
repression  of  our  natural  tendency  to  “anticipate,”  and  endeavor, 
by  a short  cut,  to  abridge  the  long  journey  which  conducts  us  to 
the  Truth. 

But  while  we  think  Mr.  Macaulay  underrates  the  importance  of 
the  inductive  rules,  we  quite  agree  with  him  that  Bacon  overrated 
their  importance.  “ Our  method  of  discovery  in  science,”  so  runs 
one  of  his  aphorisms,  “is  of  such  a nature  that  there*is  not  much 
left  to  acuteness  and  strength  of  genius,  but  all  degrees  of  genius 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  usefhl?  429 

and  intellect  are  brought  nearly  to  the  same  level.”*  This  is  con- 
tradicted by  every  two  men  engaging  in  scientific  pursuits.  In 
proportion  to  the  efi'ectiveness  of  the  instrument,  will  the  original 
superiority  make  itself  more  manifest.  Place  axes  in  the  hands  of 
two  men  commissioned  to  make  a clearing  in  the  forest,  and  the 
stronger  man  will  be  at  a greater  advantage  than  he  was  before. 
Moreover  the  Method,  however  excellent  when  followed,  cannot 
force  men  to  follow  it:  the  natural  bias  of  the  mind  is  against  it. 
Mr.  Macaulay  therefore  is  perfectly  right  in  preferring  the  spirit 
of  Bacon’s  Method  to  the  rules  given  in  the  second  book  of  the 
Organum. 

There  is  however  another  reason  why  the  spirit  is  preferable  to 
the  rules ; and  that  reason  is  the  incompleteness  of  those  rules. 
The  radical  defect  of  Bacon’s  method  lies  in  its  being  inductive, 
and  not  also  deductive.  He  was  so  deeply  impressed  with  a sense 
of  the  insufficiency  of  the  Deductive  Method  alone,  which  he  saw 
his  contemporaries  pursuing,  and  which  he  knew  to  be  the  cause 
of  the  failure  of  his  predecessors,  that  he  bestowed  all  his  attention 
on  the  Inductive  Method.  His  want  of  mathematical  knowledge 
had  also  no  small  share  in  this  error.  Although  however  it  may 
be  justly  said  that  he  did  not  sufficiently  exemplify  the  Deductive 
Method,  it  is  not  correct  to  say  that  he  entirely  neglected  it. 
Those  who  assert  this,  forget  that  the  second  part  of  the  Novum 
Organum  was  never  completed.  In  the  second  part  it  was  his 
intention  to  treat  of  Deduction,  as  is  plain  from  the  following  pas- 
sage : “ The  indications  for  the  interpretation  of  Nature  include  two 
general  parts.  The  first  relates  to  the  raising  of  Axioms  from  ex- 
perience ; and  the  second,  to  the  deducing  or  deriving  of  new 
experinvents  from  Axioms  (de  ducendis  aut  derivandis  experi- 
mentis  novis  ab  axiomatibus).”f  We  here  see  that  he  compre- 
hended the  two-fold  nature  of  the  method ; but  inasmuch  as  he 
did  not  publish  the  second  part  of  his  Organum,  we  may  admit 
the  remark  of  Professor  Playfair,  that  “ in  a very  extensive  depart- 


Nbvum  Organum,  i.  Aph.  61.  ' 
30 


t Ibid.,  ii.  Aph.  10. 


i30 


BACON. 


meut  of  physical  science,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  investigation 
lias  been  carried  on,  not  perhaps  more  easily,  but  with  a less  fre- 
quent appeal  to  experience,  than  the  rules  of  the  Novum  Organum 
would  seem  to  require.  In  all  physical  inquiries  where  mathemat- 
ical reasoning  has  been  employed,  after  a lew  principles  have 
been  established  by  experience,  a vast  multitude  of  truths,  equally 
certaiu  with  the  principles  themselves,  have  been  deduced  from 
them  by  the  mere  application  of  geometry  and  algebra.  . . . The 
strict  method  of  Bacon  is  therefore  only  necessary  where  the 
thing  to  be  explained  is  new,  and  where  we  have  no  knowledge, 
or  next  to  none,  of  the  powers  employed.”* 

His  deficiency  in  mathematical  knowledge  caused  him  to  over- 
look the  equal  importance  of  Deduction  and  Induction  ; — “Bacon 
has  judiciously  remarked,  that  the  axiomata  ntedia  of  every  sci- 
ence principally  constitute  its  value.  The  lowest  generalizations, 
until  explained  by  and  resolved  into  the  middle  principles,  of 
which  they  are  the  consequences,  have  only  the  imperfect  accu 
racy  of  empirical  laws ; while  the  most  general  laws  are  too  gen- 
eral, and  include  too  few  circumstances  to  give  sufficient  indica- 
tion of  what  happens  in  individual  cases,  where  the  circumstan- 
ces are  almost  always  immensely  numerous.  , In  the  importance 
therefore  which  Bacon  assigns,  in  every  science,  to  the  middle 
principles,  it  is  impossible  not  to  agree  with  him.  But  I con- 
ceive him  to  have  been  radically  wrong  in  his  doctrine  respecting 
the  mode  in  which  these  axiomata  media  should  be  arrived  at ; 
although  there  is  no  one  proposition  in  his  works  for  which  he 
has  been  so  extravagantly  eulogized.  He  enunciates,  as  a uni- 
versal rule,  that  induction  should  proceed  from  the  lowest  to  the 
middle  principles,  and  from  those  to  the  highest,  never  reversing 
that  order,  and  consequently  leaving  no  room  for  the  discovery 
of  new  principles  by  way  of  deduction  at  all.  is  not  to  be 
conceived  that  a man  of  Bacon’s  sagacity  could  have  fallen  into 
this  mistake,  if  there  had  existed  in  his  time;  among  the  sciences 


* Dissertation,  pp.  58,  61. 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful  ? 431 

which  treat  of  successive  phenomena,  one  single  deductive  sci- 
ence, such  as  mechanics,  astronomy, ‘optics,  acoustics,  etc.,  now 
are.  In  those  sciences,  it  is  evident  that  the  higher  and  middle 
principles  are  by  no  means  derived  from  the  lowest,  but  the  re- 
verse. In  some  of  them,  the  very  highest  generalizations  were 
those  earliest  ascertained  with  any  scientific  exactness;  as,  for 
example  (in  mechanics),  the  laws  of  motion.  Those  general 
laws  had  not  indeed  at  first  the  acknowledged  universality  which 
they  acquired  after  having  been  successfully  employed  to  explain 
many  classes  of  phenomena  to  which  they  were  not  origingilly 
seen  to  be  applicable ; as  when  the  laws  of  motion  were  em- 
ployed in  conjunction  with  other  laws  to  explain  deductively  the 
celestial  phenomena.  Still  the  fact  remains,  that  the  proposi- 
tions which  were  afterwards  recognized  as  the  most  general 
truths  of  the  science,  were,  of  all  its  accurate  generalizations, 
those  earliest  arrived  at. 

“ Bacon’s  greatest  merit  therefore  cannot  consist,  as  we  are  so 
often  told  that  it  did,  in  exploding  the  vicious  method  pursued 
by  the  ancients,  of  fiying  to  the  highest  generalizations  for  it, 
and  deducing  the  middle  principles  from  them,  since  this  is 
neither  a vicious  nor  an  exploded  method,  but  the  universally 
accredited  method  of  modern  science,  and  that  to  which  it  owes 
its  greatest  triumphs.  The  error  of  ancient  speculation  did  not 
consist  in  making  the  largest  generalizations  first,  but  in  making 
them  without  the  aid  or  warrant  of  rigorous  inductive  methods, 
and  applying  them  deductively  without  the  needful  use  of  that 
important  part  of  the  deductive  method  termed  verification.”* 

This  passage  certainly  lays  bare  the  weakness  of  Bacon’s 
Method  ; and  does  so,  we  believe,  for  the  first  time.  But  we 
cannot  entirely  concur  in  the  concluding  paragraph.  Although 
Bacon  did  not  perhaps  see  the  real  importance  of  the  Deductive 
Method,  he  did  see  the  futility  of  the  Deductive  Method  em- 
oloyed  before  his  time  ; and  he  saw  moreover  that  the  cause  lay 


Mill’s  System  of  Logic,  11.  524-6, 


i32 


BACON. 


in  the  want  of  “ verification” — in  the  want  of  “ the  aid  or  war- 
rant of  rigorous  inductive  methods this  we  must  think  his 
greatest  merit  as  we  think  his  imperfect  conception  of  the  De- 
ductive Method  his  greatest  imperfection. 

There  is  also  another  potent  reason  why  the  merely  Inductive 
Method  should  not  have  contributed  to  any  great  discoveries ; 
and  we  must  again  borrow  from  the  System  of  Logic  the  passage 
wherein  this  is  exhibited  : 

“ It  has  excited  the  surprise  of  philosophers  that  the  detailed 
system  of  inductive  logic  has  been  turned  to  so  little  direct  use 
by  subsequent  inquirers, — having  neither  continued,  except  in  a 
few  of  its  generalities,  to  be  recognized  as  a theory,  nor  having 
conducted,  in  practice,  to  any  great  scientific  results.  But  this, 
though  not  unfrequently  remarked,  has  scarcely  received  any 
plausible  explanation ; and  some  indeed  have  preferred  to  assert 
that  all  rules  of  induction  are  useless,  rather  than  suppose  that 
Bacon’s  rules  are  grounded  upon  an  insufiScient  analysis  of  the 
inductive  process.  Such  however  will  be  seen  to  be  the  fact,  as 
soon  as  it  is  considered  that  Bacon  entirely  overlooked  plurality 
of  causes.  All  his  rules  tacitly  imply  the  assumption,  so  con- 
trary to  all  we  know  of  Nature,  that  a phenomenon  cannot  have 
more  than  one  cause.”* 

In  another  passage,  too  long  for  extract,  the  same  author  points 
out  a capital  error  in  Bacon’s  view  of  the  inductive  philosophy, 
viz.  his  supposition  that  the  principle  of  elimination — that  great 
logical  instrument  which  he  had  the  immense  merit  of  first 
bringing  into  use — was  applicable  in  the  same  sense,  and  in  the 
same  unqualified  manner,  to  the  investigation  of  co-existences,  as 
to  that  of  the  successions  of  phenomena.\ 

In  conclusion,  it  may  be  said  that  Bacon’s  conception  of  a 
scientific  Method  was  magnificent,  as  far  as  it  went ; but  in  con- 
sequence of  certain  deficiencies,  owing  principally  to  the  want  of 
any  established  science  as  a model,  the  Method  he  laid  down  was 


System  of  Logic,  ii.  373. 


t Ibid.,  ii.  127  et  seg. 


WAS  bacon’s  method  new  and  useful?  433 


Duly  indirectly  useful.  If  it  did  not  produce  great  discoveiies,  it 
certainly  did  exercise  an  important  influence  on  the  minds  of 
those  who  were  afterwards  to  make  great  discoveries.  “ The 
way  to  prove  that  Bacon’s  writings  were  powerful  agents  in  the 
advancement  of  physical  knowledge,”  says  Professor  Napier,  “ is 
to  prove  that  they  produced  these  eflects  (viz.  the  overthrow  of 
existing  methods — stimulus  given  to  experimental  inquiry — and 
ingenious  views  and  principles  requisite  for  such  inquiry) ; and 
the  proof  that  such  effects  were  actually  produced  by  them,  must 
necessarily  be  derived  from  the  testimony  of  those  who  early  ex- 
perienced, or  became  otherwise  acquainted  with,  their  operation.” 
And  the  greater  part  of  his’  instructive  Essay  is  devoted  to  this 
proof.  The  proofs  are  numerous  and  decisive,  gathered  not  only 
from  the  English  and  French  writers,  but  also  from  Italian  and 
German. 

And  now  the  last  question  presents  itself.  Was  not  Bacon’s 
Method  latent  in  the  scientiflc  spirit  of  the  age  ? Yes  ; just  as 
much  as  the  invention  of  the  steam-engine  was  latent  in  the 
knowledge  and  tendencies  of  the  age  of  Watt.  What  does  in- 
vention mean  more  than  the  flnding  what  others  are  still  seek- 
ing? were  it  not  hidden  somewhere,  no  one  could  And  it.  Let 
no  one  therefore  endeavor  to  rob  a great  man  of  his  fame  by  de- 
claring that  the  thing  found  was  lying  ready  to  be  found,  and 
would  have  sooner  or  later  been  found  by  some  one.  Yes,  by 
some  one  who  had  eyes  to  see  what  his  fellow-men  could  not 
see  : by  some  other  yreai  man.  How  was  it  that  Bacon’s  im- 
mediate predecessors  and  contemporaries  did  not  detect  this 
latent  method?  It  was  lying  there  as  open  for  inspection  to 
them  as  to  him.  Why  did  he  alone  And  it  ? Because  he  alone 
was  competent  to  And  it. 

It  is  very  true  that  in  his  day,  and  previously,  great  discover- 
ies had  been  made ; and  as  they  only  could  be  made  upon  a true 
Method,  the  Method  was  implied  in  them.  But  this  is  no  argu- 
ment against  Bacon’s  originality.  “ Principles  of  evidence,”  says 
Mr.  Mill,  “ and  theories  of  method,  are  not  to  be  constructed  d 


i34 


BACON. 


priori.  The  laws  of  our  rational  faculty,  like  those  of  every 
other  natural  agency,  are  only  learnt  by  seeing  the  agent  at 
work.  The  earlier  achievements  of  science  were  made  without 
the  conscious  observance  of  any  scientific  method ; and  we  should 
never  have  known  by  what  process  truth  is  to  be  ascertained  if 
we  had  not  previously  ascertained  truths.”  And  if  we  consider 
for  a moment  the  extreme  paucity  of  ascertained  truths  in  science 
at  the  time  Bacon  wrote,  it  will  enhance  our  admiration  of  his 
marvellous  sagacity,  to  see  him  do  so  much  with  such  poor  ma- 
terials; as  Playfair  says,  “the  history  of  human  knowledge  points 
out  nobody  of  whom  it  can  be  said  that,  placed  in  the  situation 
of  Bacon,  he  would  have  done  whaf  Bacon  did, — no  man  whose 
prophetic  genius  would  enable  him  to  delineate  a system  of 
science  which  had  not  yet  begun  to  exist.” 

Bacon  is  a great  subject,  and  one  as  attractive  as  great ; but 
our  object  here  has  been  solely  to  exhibit  his  Method,  and  to 
indicate  its  historical  position.  We  have  done  nothing  but  point 
out  the  gi’ounds  upon  which  his  fame,  as  the  father  of  Experi- 
mental Philosophy,  is  built.  His  Method  alone  engaged  us,  be- 
cause by  it  alone  he  claims  a place  in  this  history.  We  have 
not  dwelt  upon  his  errors ; neither  have  we  dwelt  upon  the  won- 
drous and  manifold  excellences  of  that  mind  which  Mr.  Macaulay 
has  so  felicitously  compared  to  the  tent  the  fairy  Peribanou  gave 
to  Prince  Ahmed  : — “ Fold  it,  and  it  seemed  the  toy  for  the  hand 
of  lady  : spread  it,  and  the  armies  of  powerful  Sultans  might  re- 
pose beneath  its  shade  ” 


SECOND  EPOCH. 

FOUIS'DATK  ^N  OF  THE  DEDUCTIVE  METHOD 


CHAPTER  I. 

DESCAETES. 

§ I.  Life  of  Descartes. 

JUST  at  the  clo.e  of  the  sixteenth  century,  1596,  there  was 
born  in  Touraine,  of  Breton  parents,  a feeble  sickly  child,  named 
Rene  Descartes  I-uperron.  A few  days  after  his  birth,  a disease 
of  the  lungs  cairied  off  his  mother.  The  sickly  child  grew  to 
be  a sickly  boy  ; and,  till  the  age  of  twenty,  his  life  was  always 
despaired  of. 

That  boy  was  ( ae  the  world  could  ill  afford  to  lose.  Few  who 
saw  him  creeping  on  the  path,  which  his  companions  galloped 
along  like  young  colts,  would  have  supposed  that  the  boy,  whose 
short  dry  cough  and  paleness  seemed  to  announce  an  early  grave, 
was  shortly  to  become  one  of  the  world’s  illustrious  leaders,  whose 
works  would  continue,  centuries  after  their  appearance,  to  be 
studied,  quoted,  and  criticised.  His  masters  loved  him.  He  was 
a pupil  of  promise ; and  in  his  eighth  year  had  gained  the  title  of 
the  Young  Philosopher,  from  his  avidity  to  learn,  and  his  con- 
stant questioning. 

His  education  was  confided  to  the  Jesuits.  This  astonishing 
body  has  many  evils  laid  to  its  door,  but  no  one  can  refuse  to  it 
the  praise  of  having  been  ever  ready  to  see  and  apply  the  value 


i36 


DESCARTES. 


of  education.  In  the  college  of  La  Fleche  the  young  Descartes 
was  instructed  in  mathematics,  physics,  logic,  rhetoric,  and  the 
ancient  languages.  He  was  an  apt  pupil ; learned  quickly,  and 
was  never  tired  of  learning. 

Was  the  food  supplied  by  the  Jesuits  nutritious?  M.  Thomas 
remarks,  “ There  is  an  education  for  the  ordinary  man ; for  the 
man  of  genius  there  is  no  education  but  what  he  gives  himself ; 
the  second  generally  consists  in  destroying  the  first.”  And  £-0  it 
was  with  Descartes,  who,  on  leaving  La  Fleche,  declared  that 
he  had  derived  no  other  benefit  from  his  studies  than  that  of  a 
conviction  of  his  utter  ignorance,  and  a profound  contempt  for 
the  systems  of  philosophy  in  vogue.  The  incompetence  of  phi- 
losophers to  solve  the  problems  they  occupied  themselves  with, 
— the  anarchy  which  reigned  in  the  scientific  world,  where  no 
two  thinkers  could  agree  upon  fundamental  points, — the  extrav- 
agance of  the  conclusions  to  which  some  accepted  premises  led, 
determined  him  to  seek  no  more  to  slake  his  thirst  at  their  fountains, 

“ And  that  is  why,  as  soon  as  my  age  permitted  me  to  quit 
my  preceptors,”  he  says,  “ I entirely  gave  up  the  study  of  letters ; 
and  resolving  to  seek  no  other  science  than  that  which  I could 
find  in  myself,  or  else  in  the  great  book  of  the  world,  I employed 
the  remainder  of  my  youth  in  travel,  in  seeing  courts  and  camps, 
in  frequenting  people  of  diverse  humors  and  conditions,  in  col- 
lecting various  experiences,  and  above  all  in  endeavoring  to  draw 
some  profitable'  refiection  from  what  I saw.  For  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I should  meet  with  more  truth  in  the  reasonings  which 
each  man  makes  in  his  own  affairs,  and  which  if  wrong  would 
be  speedily  punished  by  failure,  than  in  those  reasonings  which 
the  philosopher  makes  in  his  study,  upon  speculations  which  pro- 
duce no  effect,  and  which  are  of  no  consequence  to  him,  except 
perhaps  that  he  will  be  more  vain  of  them  the  more  remote  they 
are  from  common  sense,  because  he  would  then  have  been  forced  to 
employ  more  ingenuity  and  subtlety  to  render  them  plausible.”* 

* Discoura  de  la  Meiliode,  p.  6 of  the  convenient  edition  of  M.  Jules  Si- 
mon. Paris,  1844. 


LIFE  OP  DESOAKTES. 


437 


For  many  years  he  led  a roving,  unsettled  life ; now  serving 
in  the  army,  now  making  a tour;  now  studying  mathematics  in 
solitude,  now  conversing  with  scientific  men.  One  constant  pur- 
pose gave  unity  to  those  various  pursuits.  He  was  elaborating 
his  answers  to  the  questions  which  perplexed  him ; he  was  pre- 
paring his  Method. 

When  only  three-and-twenty  he  conceived  the  design  of  a 
reformation  in  philosophy.  He  was  at  that  time  residing  in  his 
winter-quarters  at  Neuburg,  on  the  Danube.  His  travels  soon 
afterwards  commenced,  and  at  the  age  ot  thirty-three  he  retired 
into  Holland,  there  in  silence  and  solitude  to  arrange  his  thoughts 
into  a consistent  whole.  He  remained  there  eight  years ; and 
so  completely  did  he  shut  himself  from  the  world,  that  he  con- 
cealed from  his  friends  the  very  place  of  his  residence. 

When  the  results  of  his  meditative  solitude  were  given  to  the 
world,  in  the  shape  of  his  celebrated  Discourse  on  Method^  and 
his  Meditations  (to  which  he  invented  replies),  the  sensation  pro- 
duced was  immense.  It  was  evident  to  all  men  that  an  original 
and  powerful  thinker  had  arisen ; and  although  of  course  this 
originality  could  not  but  rouse  much  opposition,  from  the  very 
fact  of  being  original,  yet  Descartes  gained  the  day.  His  name 
became  European.  His  controversies  Avere  European  quarrels. 
Charles  L,  of  England,  invited  him  over,  with  the  promise  of  a 
liberal  appointment ; and  the  invitation  would  probably  have 
been  accepted,  had  not  the  civil  war  broken  out.  He  afterwards 
received  a flattering  invitation  from  Christina  of  Sweden,  who 
had  read  some  of  his  works  with  great  satisfaction,  and  wished 
to  learn  from  himself  the  principles  of  his  philosophy.  He  ac- 
cepted it,  and  aiuived  in  Stockholm  in  1649.  His  reception  was 
most  gratifying ; and  the  Queen  was  so  pleased  with  him  as  earn- 
estly to  beg  him  to  remain  with  her,  and  give  his  assistance 
towards  the  establishment  of  an  academy  of  sciences.  But  the 
delicate  frame  of  Descartes  was  ill  fitted  for  the  severity  of  the 
climate,  and  a cold,  caught  in  one  of  his  morning  visits  to  Chris- 
tina, produced  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  Avhich  put  an  end  to 


m 


DESCARTES. 


his  existence.  Christina  wept  for  him,  had  him  interred  in  tha 
cemetery  for  foreigners,  and  placed  a long  eulogium  upon  his 
tomb.  His  remains  were  subsequently  (1666)  carried  from 
Sweden  into  France,  and  buried  with  great  ceremony  in  St. 
Genevieve  du  Mont. 

Descartes  was  a great  thinker ; but  having  said  this,  we  have 
almost  exhausted  the  praise  we  can  bestow  npon  him  as  a man. 
In  disposition  he  was  timid  to  servility.  When  promulgating 
his  proofs  of  the  existence  of  the  Deity,  he  was  in  evident  alarm 
lest  the  Church  should  see  something  objectionable  in  them.  He 
had  also  written  an  astronomical  treatise ; but  hearing  of  the 
fate  of  Galileo,  he  refrained  from  publishing,  and  always  used 
some  chicane  in  speaking  of  the  world’s  movement.  He  was 
not  a brave  man  ; nor  was  he  an  affectionate  man.'  But  he  was 
even-tempered,  placid,  and  studious  not  to  give  offence.  In 
these,  as  in  so  many  other  points,  he  resembles  his  illustrious 
rival,  Francis  Bacon ; but  his  name  has  descended  spotless  to 
posterity,  while  Bacon’s  has  descended  darkened  with  more  spots 
than  time  can  efface.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  how  much  differ- 
ence of  position  had  to  do  with  this  difference  of  moral  purity. 
Had  Bacon  lived  in  his  study,  we  should  have  only  praises  for 
his  name. 

§ II.  The  Method  of  Descartes. 

There  have  been  disputes  as  to  Bacon’s  claim  to  the  title  of 
Father  of  Experimental  Science;  but  no  one  disputes  the  claim 
of  Descartes  to  the  title  of  Father  of  Modern  Philosophy.  On- 
tology and  Psychology  are  still  pursued  upon  his  Method ; and 
his  speculations  are  still  proudly  referred  to,  by  most  Continental 
thinkers,  as  perfect,  or  almost  perfect,  examples  of  that  Method. 

In  his  Dedication  of  the  Meditations  to  the  Sorbonne,  he  says : 
“ I have  always  thought  that  the  two  questions,  of  the  existence 
of  God,  and  the  nature  of  the  soul,  were  the  chief  of  those 
which  ought  to  be  demonstrated  rather  by  philosophy  than  by 
theology;  for  although  it  is  sufficient  for  us,  the  faithful,  to  be* 


THE  METHOD  OF  DESCARTES. 


439 


5eve  iu  God,  and  that  the  soul  does  not  perish  with  the  body,  it 
certainly  does  not  seem  possible  ever  to  persuade  the  infidels  to 
any  religion,  nor  hardly  to  any  moral  virtue,  unless  we  first  prove 
to  them  these  two  things  by  natural  reason.”  Extraordinary 
language,  which  shows  how  completely  Philosophy  had  gained 
complete  independence. 

But  if  Philosophy  is  to  be  independent, — if  reason  is  to  walk 
alone,  in  what  direction  must  she  walk?  Having  relinquished 
the  aid  of  the  Church,  there  were  but  two  courses  open : the 
one,  to  tread  once  more  in  the  path  of  the  ancients,  and  to  en- 
deavor by  the  ancient  Methods  to  attain  the  truth ; or  else  to 
open  a new  path,  to  invent  a new  Method.  The  former  was 
barely  possible.  The  spirit  of  the  age  was  deeply  imbued  with 
a feeling  of  opposition  against  the  ancient  Methods ; and  Des- 
cartes himself  had  been  painfully  perplexed  by  the  universal  an- 
archy and  uncertainty  which  prevailed.  The  second  course  was 
therefore  chosen. 

Uncertainty  was  the  disease  of  the  epoch.  Skepticism  was 
wide-spread,  and  even  the  most  confident  dogmatism  could  offer 
no  criterium  of  certitude.  This  want  of  a criterium  we-  saw 
leading,  in  Greece,  to  Skepticism,  Epicureanism,  Stoicism,  the 
New  Academy,  and  finally  leading  the  Alexandrians  into  the 
province  of  fiiith,  to  escape  from  the  dilemma.  The  question  of 
a criterium  had  long  been*  the  vital  question  of  philosophy. 
Descartes  could  get  no  answer  to  it  from  the  Doctors  of  his  day. 
Unable  to  find  firm  ground  in  any  of  the  prevalent  systems ; dis- 
tracted by  doubts ; mistrusting  the  conclusions  of  his  own  un- 
derstanding ; mistrusting  the  evidences  of  his  senses,  he  deter- 
mined to  make  a tabula  rasa,  and  reconstruct  his  knowledge. 
He  resolved  to  examine  the  premises  of  every  conclusion,  and  to 
believe  nothing  but  upon  the  clearest  evidence  of  reason ; evidence 
BO  convincing  that  he  could  not  by  any  eflTort  refuse  to  assent 
to  it. 

He  has  given  us  the  detailed  history  of  his  doubts.  He  has 
A)ld  us  how  he  found  that  he  could  plausibly  enough  doubt  of 


DESCARTES. 


UO 

cvcrj"  thing,  except  of  his  own  existence.  He  pushed  his  skepti- 
cism to  the  verge  of  self-annihilation.  There  he  stopped  : there, 
in  Self,  in  his  Consciousness,  he  found  at  last  an  irresistible  Fact, 
an  irreversible  Certainty. 

Finn  ground  was  discovered.  He  could  doubt  the  existence 
of  the  external  world,  and  treat  it  as  a phantasm ; he  could 
doubt  the  existence  of  God,  and  treat  the  belief  as  a superstition ; 
but  of  the  existence  of  his  thinking,  doubting  mind,  no  sort  of 
doubt  was  possible.  He,  the  doubter,  existed,  if  nothing  else  ex- 
isted. The  existence  that  was  revealed  in  his  own  Consciousness 
was  the  primary  fact,  the  first  indubitable  certainty.  Hence  his 
famous  Cogito,  ergo  Sum : I think,  therefore  I am. 

It  is  somewhat  curious,  and,  as  an  illustration  of  the  frivolous 
verbal  disputes  of  philosophers,  not  a little  instructive,  that  this 
celebrated  Cogito,  ergo  Sum  should  have  been  frequently  attacked 
for  its  logical  imperfection.  It  has  been  objected,  from  Gassendi 
downwards,  that  to  say,  “ I think,  therefore  I am,”  is  a begging 
of  the  question,  since  existence  has  to  be  proved  identical  with 
thought.  Certainly,  if  Descartes  had  intended  to  2)rove  his  own 
existence  by  reasoning,  he  would  have  been  guilty  of  the  petitio 
'principii  Gassendi  attributes  to  him ; viz.  that  the  major  prem- 
ise, “ that  which  thinks  exists,”  is  assumed,  not  proved.  But  he 
did  not  intend  this.  What  was  his  object?  He  has  told  us  that 
it  was  to  find  a starting-point  from  which  to  reason, — to  find  an 
irreversible  certainty.  And  where  did  he  find  this  ? In  his  own 
Consciousness.  Doubt  as  I may,  I cannot  doubt  of  my  own  ex- 
istence, because  my  very  doubt  reveals  to  me  a something  which 
doubts.  You  may  call  this  an  assumption,  if  you  will : I point 
out  the  fact  as  one  above  and  beyond  all  logic ; which  logic  can 
neither  prove  nor  disprove ; but  which  must  always  remain  an 
irreversible  certainty,  and  as  such  a fitting  basis  of  philosophy.* 

I exist.  No  doubt  can  darken  such  a truth  ; no  soj^hism  can 
confute  this  clear  principle.  This  is  a certainty,  if  there  be  none 

* See  his  replies  to  the  third  and  fifth  eeries  of  Objections,  affixed  to  hia 
Meditations. 


THE  METHOD  OF  DESCARTES. 


441 


other.  This  is  the  basis  of  all  science.  It  is  in  vain  to  ask  for  a 
proof  of  that  which  is  self-evident  and  irresistible.  I exist.  Tha 
consciousness  of  my  existence  is  to  me  the  assurance  of  my  ex- 
istence. 

Had  Descartes  done  no  more  than  point  out  this  fact,  he  would 
have  no  claim  to  .notice  here  ; and  we  are  surprised  to  find  many 
writers  looking  upon  this  Cogito,  ergo  Sum,  as  constituting  the 
great  idea  in  his  system.  Surely  it  is  only  a statement  of  uni- 
versal experience — an  epigrammatic  form  given  to  the  common- 
sense  view  of 'the  matter.  Any  clown  would  have  told  him  that 
the  assurance  of  his  existence  was  his  consciousness  of  it ; but 
the  clown  would  not  have  stated  it  so  well.  He  would  have 
said : I know  I exist,  because  I feel  that  I exist. 

■ Descartes  thei’efdre  made  no  discovery  in  pointing  out  this  fact 
as  an  irresistible  certainty.  The  part  it  plays  in  his  system  is 
only  that  of  a starting-point.  It  makes  Consciousness  the  basis 
of  all  truth ; there  is  none  other  possible.  Interrogate  Con- 
sciousness, and  its  clear  replies  will  be  Science.  Here  we  have 
a new  basis  and  a new  philosophy  introduced.  It  was  indeed 
but  another  shape  of  the  old  formula,  “ Know  thyself,”  so  differ- 
ently interpreted  by  Thales,  Socrates,  and  the  Alexandrians  : 
but  it  gave  that  formula  a precise  signification,  a thing  it  had 
before  always  wanted.  Of  little  use  could  it  be  to  tell  man  to 
know  himself.  How  is  he  to  know  himself?  By  looking  in- 
wards? We  all  do  that.  By  examining  the  nature  of  his 
thoughts  ? That  had  been  done  without  success.  By  examining 
the  process  of  his  thoughts  ? That  too  had  been  accomplished, 
and  the  logic  of  Aristotle  was  the  result. 

The  formula  needed  a precise  interpretation  ; and  that  inter- 
pretation Descartes  gave.  Consciousness,  said  he,  is  the  basis  of 
all  knowledge  ; it  is  the  only  ground  of  absolute  certainty. 
^^Tlatever  it  distinctly  proclaims  must  be  true.  The  process, 
then,  is  simple : examine  your  Consciousness,  and  its  clear  re- 
plies. Hence  the  vital  portion  of  his  system  lies  in  this  axiom, 
all  clear  ideas  are  true  • whatever  i.s  r-learly  and  distinctly  con 


DESCARTES. 


ceived  is  true.  This  axiom  he  calls  the  foundation  of  all  science, 
the  rtile  and  measure  of  truth.'^ 

The  next  step  to  be  taken  was  to  determine  the  rules  for  the 
proper  detection  of  these  ideas ; and  these  rules  he  has  laid 
down  as  follows : 

I.  Never  to  accept  any  thing  as  true,  but  what  is  evidently  so ; 
to  admit  nothing  but  what  so  clearly  and  distinctly  presents 
itself  as  true  that  there  can  be  no  reason  to  doubt  it. 

II.  To  divide  eveiy  question  into  as  many  separate  questions 
as  possible ; that  each  part  being  more  easily  conceived,  the 
whole  may  be  more  intelligible. — (Analysis.) 

III.  To  conduct  the  examination  with  order,  beginning  by  that 
of  objects  the  most  simple,  and  therefore  the  easiest  to  be  known, 
and  ascending  little  by  little  up  to  knowledge  of  the  most  com- 
plex.— (Synthesis.) 

IV.  To  make  such  exact  calculations,  and  such  circumspec- 
tions, as  to  be  confident  that  nothing  essential  has  been  omitted. 

Consciousness  being  the  ground  of  all  certainty,  every  thing 
of  which  you  are  clearly  and  distinctly  conscious  must  be  true ; 
every  thing  which  you  clearly  and  .distinctly  conceive  exists,  if 
the  idea  of  it  involves  existence. 

In  the  four  rules,  and  in  this  view  of  Consciousness,  we  have 
only  half  of  Descartes’  system  : the  psychological  half.  It  was 
owing,  we  believe,  to  the  exclusive  consideration  of  this  half  that 
Dugald  Stewart  was  led  (in  controverting  Condorcet’s  assertion 
that  Descartes  Jiad  done  more  than  either  Galileo  or  Bacon  to- 
wards experimental  philosophy)  to  say  that  Condorcet  would 
have  been  nearer  the  truth  if  he  had  pointed  him  out  as  the 
Father  of  the  E.xperimental  Philosophy  of  the  Mind.  Perhaps 
the  title  is  just;  but  Condorcet’s  praise,  though  exaggerated,  was 
not  without  good  foundation. 

* “ Hao  igitur  detecia  veritate  simul  etiam  invenit  omnium  scientiarum 
fundamentura  : ac  etiam  omnium  aliarum  veritatum  mensuram  ac  regulam  ; 
Bcilicet,  quioquid  tarn  dare  ac  distincte  peroipitur  quam  istud  verum  est.’’— 
Princip.  Phil.  p.  4, 


THE  METHOD  OF  DESCARTES. 


443 


Tliere  is,  iu  truth,  another  half  of  Descartes’  s)  stem  ; equally 
important,  or  nearly  so  : we  mean  the  Mathematical  or  Deduc- 
tive Method.  His  eminence  as  a mathematician  is  universally 
recognized.  He  was  the  first  to  make  the  grand  discovery  of  the 
application  of  Algebra  to  Geometry ; and  he  made  this  at  the 
age  of  twenty-three.  The  discovery  that  geometrical  curves 
might  be  expressed  by  algebraical  numbers,  though  highly  im- 
portant in  the  history  of  mathematics,  only  interests  us  here  by 
leading  us  to  trace  his  philosophical  development.  We  see  him 
deeply  engrossed  in  mathematics ; we  see  him  awakening  to  the 
conviction  that  mathematics  were  capable  of  a still  further  simpli- 
fication, and  of  a far  more  extended  application.  Struck  as  he 
was  with  a certitude  of  mathematical  reasoning,  he  began  apply- 
ing the  principles  of  mathematical  reasoning  to  the  subject  of 
metaphysics.  His  great  object  was,  amidst  the  skepticism  and 
anarchy  of  his  contemporaries,  to  found  a system  which  should 
be  solid  and  convincing.  He  first  wished  to  find  a basis  of  cer- 
titude— a starting-point ; this  he  found  in  Consciousness.  He 
next  wished  to  find  a method  of  certitude : this  he  found  in 
mathematics. 

“ Those  long  chains  of  reasoning,”  he  tells  us,  “ all  simple  and 
easy,  which  geometers  use  to  arrive  at  their  most  diflicult  demon- 
strations, suggested  to  me  that  all  things  which  came  within 
human  knowledge  must  follow  each  other  in  a similar  chain; 
and  that  provided  we  abstain  from  admitting  any  thing  as  true 
which  is  not  so,  and  that  we  always  preserve  in  them  the  order 
necessary  to  deduce  one  from  the  other,  there  can  be  none  so 
remote  to  which  we  cannot  finally  attain,  nor  so  obscure  but  that 
we  may  discover  them.”*  From  these  glimpses  of  the  twofold 
nature  of  Descartes’  Method,  it  will  be  easy  to  see  into  his  whole 
system.  The  psychological  and  mathematical  Methods  are  in- 
separable, Consciousness  being  the  only  ground  of  certitude, 
mathematics  the  only  method  of  certitude. 


Discours  de  la  MetTwde,  p.  12. 


DESCARTES. 


iU 

'Vfe  may  say  therefore  that  the  Deductive  Method  was  now 
completely  constituted.  The  whole  operation  of  philosophy 
lienceforth  consisted  in  deducing  consequences.  The  premises 
had  been  found  ; the  conclusions  alone  were  wanting.  This  was 
held  to  be  true  of  physics  no  less  than  of  psychology.  Thus,  in 
his  Prindpia,  he  announces  his  intention  of  giving  a short  ac- 
count of  the  principal  phenomena  of  the  world,  not  that  he  maj 
use  them  as  reasons  to  prove  any  thing ; for  he  adds,  “ we  desire 
to  deduce  effects  from'  causes.,  not  causes  from  effects,  but  only  in 
order  that  out  of  the  innumerable  effects  which  we  learn  to  be 
capable  of  resulting  from  the  same  causes,  we  may  determine  our 
minds  to  consider  some  rather  than  others.”'*'^ 

Such  being  the  Method  of  Descartes,  our  readers  will  hear 
with  surprise  that  some  French  writers  have  declared  it  to  be 
the  same  Method  as  that  laid  down  by  Bacon ; and  this  surprise 
will  be  heightened  on  learning  that  M.  Victor  Cousin  is  one  of 
those  writers.  He  says,  “ Let  us  now  see  what  our  Descartes  has 
done.  He  has  established  in  France  the  same  Method  that  Eng- 
land has  endeavored  to  attribute  exclusively  to  Bacon  ;■  and  he 
has  established  it  with  less  gi’andeur  of  imagination  in  style,  but 
with  the  superior  precision  which  must  always  characterize  one 
who,  not  content  with  laying  down  rules,  puts  them  himself  in 
practice,  and  gives  the  example  with  the  precept.”f  M.  Cousin 
then  quotes  the  four  rules  wm  quoted  from  Descartes ; and  seeing 
in  them  Analysis  and  Synthesis,  which  he  believes  constitutes 
the  sole  Method  of  Bacon,  declares  that  the  two  Methods  are 
one.  Such  a statement  requires  no  refutation;  nor  indeed  would 


* Prindpia  Philos,  pars  iii.  p.  51.  The  phrase,  “cnpimus  enim  rationes 
effectuum  a causis,  non  antem  e contrario  causarum  ah  effectibus  deducere,” 
may  be  said  to  express  the  nature  of  his  method,  as  opposed  to  the  method 
of  Bacon.  When  M.  Jules  Simon  said,  “ The  commencement  of  philosophy 
for  Descartes  is  Doubt ; that  alone  is  all  his  entire  method — cela  seul  est  touts 
sa  Methode"  (Introduction  prefi.xed  to  his  edition  of  Descartes,  p.  3),  he  mis- 
takes, as  it  seems  to  us,  the  whole  purpose  of  Descartes’  artificial  skepticism: 
besides,  how  can  a Doubt  be  a Method  ? 
t Hist,  dela  Philos,  leqon  iii.  p.  91,  ed.  Bru.xelles,  1840. 


THE  METHOD  OF  DESCAETES. 


44:5 


*t  have  been  noticed,  did  it  not  afford  an  illustration  of  the  loose 
way  in  which  the  term  Method  is  employed  by  many  writers. 

Bacon  was  the  reverse  side  of  the  medal  of  Descartes.  Bacon’s 
deficiencies  lay  in  that  department  where  Descartes  was  greatest 
— in  mathematics.  Hence  Bacon’s  over-valuation  of  Induction, 
and  neglect  of  Deduction ; hence  also  Descartes’  over- valuation 
of  Deduction,  and  neglect  of  Induction.  Both  cultivated  Phys- 
ics ; hut  Bacon  made  it  the  basis  of  all  the  sciences;  Descartes 
made  it  a mere  illustration  of  his  principles.  The  one  argued 
from  efiects  to  causes — from  the  known  to  the  unknown ; the 
other  deduced  efiects  from  causes — explaining  phenomena  by 
noumena — explaining  that  which  presented  itself  to  the  senses 
by  that  which  was  intuitively  known.  Both  separated  religion 
from  philosophy ; but  Bacon  declared  the  problems  of  religion 
and  ontology  insoluble  by  reason,  and  therefore  beyond  the  prov- 
ince of  science ; Descartes  declared  them  soluble  only  by  reason, 
and  that  it  was  the  first  object  of  philosophy  to  solve  them. 

Besides  these  and  other  points  of  dififerenee,  there  were  also 
several  points  of  resemblance,  owing  to  the  resemblance  of  their 
positions  as  reformers.  They . both  overvalued  their  Methods, 
which  they  declare  will  enable  all  men  to  philosophize  with  equal 
justness.  “ It  is  not  so  essential  to  have  a fine  understanding,” 
says  Descartes,  “ as  to  apply  it  rightly.  Those  who  walk  slowly 
make  greater  progress,  if  they  always  follow  the  right  road,  than 
those  who  run  swiftly,  but  run  on  a wrong  one.”  This  is  pre- 
cisely the  thought  of  Bacon : “ A cripple  in  the  right  path  will 
beat  a racer  in  the  wrong  one.”  But  both  these  thinkers  assume 
that  the  racer  will  choose  the  wrong  path : whereas,  if  their 
Methods  are  adopted,  the  finer  understanding  must  always  sur- 
pass the  duller  in  the  discovery  of  truth. 

Before  quitting  this  subject,  we  must  remark  on  the  essentially 
metaphysical  nature  and  tendency  of  the  Method  of  Descartes, 
even  when  employed  on  Physics ; and  for  this  purpose  we  can- 
not do  better  than  borrow  the  admirable  language  of  Fontenello 
in  his  parallel  between  Descartes  and  Newton.  “Tous  deux  geo- 
31 


DESCARTES. 


ii6 

metres  excellents  ont  vu  la  necessite  de  transporter  la  geonietrie 
dans  la  physique  . . . Mais  I’un,  prenant  un  vol  hardi,  a voulu 
se  placer  a la  source  de  tout,  se  rendre  maitre  des  premiers  prin- 
cipes  par  quelques  idees  claires  et  fondamentales,  pour  n’ avoir 
plus  qu’a  descendre  aux  phenomenes  de  la  nature  comme  a des 
consequences  necessaires ; I’autre,  plus  timide  ou  plus  modeste, 
a commence  sa  marche  par  s’appuyer  sur  les  phenomenes  pour 
remonter  aux  principes  inconnus,  resolu  de  les  admettre,  quels 
que  les  put  dormer  I’enchainement  des  consequences.  L’un  part 
de  ce  qu’il  entend  nettement  pour  trouver  la  cause  de  ce  qu’il 
voit;  I’autre  part  de  ce  qu’il  voit  pour  en  trouver  la  cause,  soit 
claire,  soit  obscure.” 

§ III.  Application  of  the  Method. 

To  prove  the  existence  of  God  was  the  first  application  of  L)es 
cartes’  Method ; not,  as  some  say,  to  prove  his  own  existence ; for 
that  neither  admitted  of  logical  proof  nor  of  disproof : it  was  a pri- 
mary fact.  Interrogating  his  Consciousness,  he  found  that  he  had 
the  idea  of  God, — understanding,  by  God,  a substance  infinite,  eter- 
nal, immutable,  independent,  omniscient,  omnipotent.  This,  to  him, 
was  as  certain  a truth  as  the  truth  of  his  own  existence.  I exist : 
not  only  do  I exist,  but  exist  as  a miserably  imperfect,  finite 
being,  subject  to  change — greatly  ignorant,  and  incapable  of  cre- 
ating any  thing.  In  this,  my  Consciousness,  I find  by  my  fini- 
tude  that  I am  not  the  All ; by  my  imperfection,  that  I am  not 
perfect.  Yet  an  infinite  and  perfect  being  must  exist,  because 
infinity  and  perfection  are  implied,  as  correlatives,  in  my  ideas  of 
imperfection  and  finitude.  God  therefore  exists : his  existence  is 
clearly  proclaimed  in  my  Consciousness,  and  can  no  more  be  a 
matter  of  doubt,  when  fairly  considered,  than  my  own  existence. 
The  conception  of  an  infinite  being  proves  his  real  existence , 
for  if  there  is  not  really  such  a being,  I must  have  made  the 
conception ; but  if  I could  make  it,  I can  also  unmake  it,  which 
evidently  is  not  true ; therefore  there  must  be,  externally  to  my  • 
self,  an  archetype  from  which  the  conception  was  derived. 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  METHOD. 


447 


“The  ambiguity  in  this  case,”  it  has  been  remarked,*  “is  the 
pronoun  /,  by  which  in  one  place  is  to  be  understood  my  will, 
in  another  the  laws  of  my  nature.  If  the  conception,  existing  as 
it  does  in  my  mind,  had  no  original  without,  the  conclusion  would 
unquestionably  follow  that  I had  made  it — that  is,  the  laws  of 
my  nature  must  have  spontaneously  evolved  it ; but  that  my  will 
made  it,  would  not  follow.  Now,  when  Descartes  afterwards  adds 
that  I cannot  unmake  the  conception,  he  means  that  I cannot 
get  rid  of  it  by  an  act  of  my  will,  which  is  true,  but  is  not  the 
proposition  required.  That  what  some  of  the  laws  of  my  nature 
have  produced,  other  laws,  or  the  same  laws  in  other  circumstan- 
ces, might  not  subsequently  efface,  he  would  have  found  it  dif- 
ficult to  establish.” 

His  second  demonstration  is  the  weakest  of  the  three.  Indeed, 
it  is  the  only  one  not  irrefragable,  upon  his  principles.  The 
third  demonstration  is  peculiarly  Cartesian,  and  may  be  thrown 
into  this  syllogism : 

All  that  we  clearly  and  distinctly  conceive  as  contained  in 
any  thing,  is  true  of  that  thing. 

Now  we  conceive,  clearly  and  distinctly,  that  the  existence 
of  God  is  contained  in  the  idea  we  have  of  him. 

Ergo, 

God  exists. 

Having  demonstrated  the  existence  of  God,  he  had  to  prove 
the  distinction  between  body  and  soul.  This,  to  him,  was  easy. 
The  fundamental  attribute  of  Substance  must  be  extension,  be- 
cause we  can  abstract  from  Substance  all  the  qualities  except  ex- 
tension. The  fundamental  attribute  of  Mind  is  thought,  because 
by  this  attribute  Mind  is  revealed  to  itself.  Now,  according  to 
one  of  his  logical  axioms,  two  substances  are  really  distinct  when 
their  ideas  are  complete,  and  in  no  way  imply  each  other.  The 
ideas,  therefore,  of  extension  and  thought  being  distinct,  it  fol- 
lows that  Substance  and  Mind  are  distinct  in  essence. 

We  need  not  pursue  our  analysis  of  his  metaphysical  notions 

* Mill’s  System  of  Logic,  ii.  447. 


M8 


DESCARTES. 


further.  We  only  stop  to  remark  on  the  nature  of  hia  demon* 
strations  of  God  and  the  soul.  It  is,  and  was,  usual  to  prove  the 
existence  of  God  from  what  is  called  the  “ evidence  of  design.” 
Descartes  neither  started  from  design,  nor  from  motion,  which 
must  have  a mover : he  started  from  the  a priori  ideas  of  per- 
fection and  infinity ; his  proof  was  in  the  clearness  of  his  idea 
of  God.  His  Method  was  that  of  definition  and  deduction.  To 
define  the  idea  of  God,  and  hence  to  construct  the  world — not 
to  contemplate  the  world,  and  thence  infer  the  existence  of  God 
— was  the  route  he  pursued.  Is  it  not  eminently  the  procedure 
of  a mathematician  ? and  of  a mathematician  who  has  taken 
Consciousness  as  his  starting-point  ? 

Descartes’  speculations  are  beautiful  exemplifications  of  his 
Method ; and  he  follows  that  Method,  even  when  it  leads  him  to 
the  wildest  conclusions.  His  physical  speculations  are  some- 
times admirable  (he  made  important  discoveries  in  optics),  but 
mostly  fanciful.  The  famous  theory  of  vortices  deserves  a men- 
tion here,  as  an  example  of  his  Method. 

He  begins  by  banishing  the  notion  of  a vacuum,  not,  as  his 
contemporaries  said,  because  Nature  has  a horror  of  vacuum,  but 
because  the  essence  of  Substance  being  extension,  wherever  there 
is  extension  there  is  Substance ; consequently  empty  space  is  a 
chimera.  The  substance  which  fills  all  space  must  be  assumed 
as  divided  into  equal  angular  parts.  Why  must  this  be  assumed  ? 
Because  it  is  the  most  simple,  therefore  the  most  natural  suppo- 
sition. This  substance  being  set  in  motion,  the  parts  are  ground 
into  a spherical  form ; and  the  corners  thus  rubbed  oflF,  like 
filings  or  sawdust,  form  a second  or  more  subtle  kind  of  substance. 
There  is,  besides,  a kind  of  substance,  coarser  and  less  fitted  for 
motion.  The  first  kind  makes  luminous  bodies,  such  as  the  sun 
and  fixed  stars ; the  second  makes  the  transparent  substance  of 
the  skies ; the  third  kind  is  the  material  of  opake  bodies,  such 
as  earth,  planets,  etc.  We  may  also  assume  that  the  motions  ot 
these  parts  take  the  form  of  revolving  circular  currents,  or  vor* 
tices.  By  this  means  the  matter  will  be  collected  to  the  centre 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  METHOD. 


449 


of  each  vortex,  while  the  second  or  subtle  matter  surrounds  it, 
and  by  its  centrifugal  effort  constitutes  light.  The  planets  are 
carried  round  the  sun  by  the  motion  of  this  vortex,  each  planet 
being  at  such  a distance  from  the  sun  as  to  be  in  a part  of  the 
vortex  suitable  to  its  solidity  and  mobility.  The  motions  are 
prevented  from  being  exactly  circular  and  regular  by  various 
causes.  For  instance,  a vortex  may  be  pressed  into  an  oval 
shape  by  contiguous  vortices.* 

Descartes,  in  his  physics,  adopted  a method  which  permitted 
him  to  set  aside  the  qualities  and  the  substantial  forms  (which 
others  were  seeking),  and  to  consider  only  the  relations  of  num- 
ber, figure,  and  motion.  In  a word,  he  saw  in  physics  only 
mathematical  problems.  This  was  premature.  Science,  in  its 
infancy,  cannot  be  carried  on  by  the  deductive  Method  alone : 
such  a process  is  reserved  for  its  maturity. 

But  this  deductive  Method,  though  premature,  was  puissant. 
Science  is  forced  to  employ  it,  and  Bacon’s  greatest  error  was  in 
not  sufficiently  acknowledging  it.  Hence  we  may  partly  account 
for  the  curious  fact  that  Bacon,  with  his  cautious  Method,  made 
no  discoveries,  while  Descartes,  with  his  premature  Method,  made 
important  discoveries.  Of  course  the  greater  physical  knowledge 
of  Descartes,  and  the  greater  attention  bestowed  by  him  upon 
physics,  had  something  to  do  with  this ; but  his  Method  also  as- 
sisted him,  precisely  because  his  discoveries  were  of  a kind  to 
which  the  mathematical  method  was  strictly  applicable. 

That  Descartes  had  read  Bacon  there  is  no  doubt.  He  has 
himself  praised  Bacon’s  works  as  leaving  nothing  to  be  desired 
on  the  subject  of  experience  ; but  he  perceived  Bacon’s  deficiency, 
and  declared  that  we  are  “ liable  to  collect  many  superfluous  ex- 
periences of  particulars,  and  not  only  superfluous,  but  false,”  if 
we  have  not  ascertained  the  truth  before  we  make  these  expe- 

* We  have  followed  Dr.  Whewell’s  exposition  of  this  theory,  as  given  by 
him,  EM.  of  Ind.  Seiences,  ii.  p.  134.  The  curious  reader  will  do  well, 
however,  to  turn  to  Descartes’  own  exposition  in  the  Principia  PhilosopbvB. 
where  it  is  illustrated  by  diagrams. 


450 


DESCARTES. 


riences.  In  other  words,  experiment  should  be  the  verification 
of  an  a priori  conception ; whereas  Bacon  teaches  us  to  form 
our  conceptions  from  experiment. 

We  have  said  enough  to  make  the  Method  of  Descartes  appre 
ciable.  His  position  is  that  of  founder  of  the  Deductive  Method 
on  the  basis  of  Consciousness.  His  scholars  may  be  divided  into 
the  mathematical  cultivators  of  Physics,  and  the  deductive  culti- 
vators of  Philosophy.  By  the  first  he  was  speedily  surpassed, 
and  his  influence  on  them  can  only  be  regarded  as  an  impulsion. 
By  the  second  he  was  continued : his  principles  were  unhesita- 
tingly accepted,  and  only  developed  in  a somewhat  difi"erent 
manner. 

His  philosophical  Method  subsists  in  the  present  day.  It  is 
the  Method  implicitly  or  explicitly  adopted  by  most  metaphy- 
sicians in  their  speculations  upon  ontological  subjects.  Is  it  a 
good  Method  ? The  question  is  of  the  highest  importance : we 
will  endeavor  to  answer  it. 

§ IV.  Is  THE  Method  true  ? 

In  the  Dedicatory  Epistle  prefixed  to  his  Meditations,  Des- 
cartes declares  that  his  demonstrations  of  the  existence  of  God, 
etc^  “ equal,  or  even  surpass,  in  certitude  the  demonstrations  of 
geometry.”  Upon  what  does  he  found  this  belief?  He  founds 
it  upon  the  very  nature  of  certitude.  Consciousness  is  the  basis 
of  all  certitude.  Whatever  I am  distinctly  conscious  of,  I must 
be  certain  of ; all  the  ideas  which  I find  in  my  Consciousness,  as 
distinctly  conceived,  must  be  true.  The  belief  I have  in  my 
existence  is  derived  from  the  fact  of  my  Consciousness : I tJiinlc, 
therefore  I exist.  Now  as  soon  as  I conceive  a truth  with  dis- 
tinctness, I am  irresistibly  led  to  believe  in  it ; and  if  that  belief 
is  so  firm  that  I can  never  have  any  reason  to  doubt  that  which 
I believe,  I have  all  the  certitude  that  can  be  desired. 

Further : we  have  no  knowledge  lohatever  of  any  thing  external 
io  us  except  through  the  medium  of  ideas.  The  consequence  is, 


IS  THE  METHOD  TRUE  ? 


451 


says  Descartes,  that  whatever  we  find  in  the  ideas  must  necessarily 
be  in  the  external  things. 

It  is  only  in  our  minds  that  we  can  seek  whether  things  exist, 
or  not.  There  cannot  be  more  reality  in  an  effect  than  in  a 
cause.  The  external  thing,  being  the  cause  of  the  idea,  must 
therefore  possess  as  much  reality  as  the  idea,  and  vice  versa.  So 
that  whatever  we  conceive  as  existent,  exists. 

This  is  the  basis  on  which  Descartes’  system  is  erected ; if  this 
basis  be  rotten,  the  superstructure  must  fall.  If  the  root  is 
vitiated,  the  tree  will  bear  no  fruit.  No  thinker,  except  Spinoza, 
has  so  clearly,  so  frankly  stated  his  criterium.  Let  us  then  ac- 
cept the  challenge  which  it  offers,  since  an  opportunity  is  now 
afforded  of  bringing  together  in  a narrow  field  the  defenders  and 
antagonists  of  philosophy. 

If  Descartes  is  wrong — if  Consciousness  is  not  the  ultimate 
ground  of  Certitude,  embracing  both  objective  and  subjective — 
if  ideas  are  not  the  internal  copies  of  external  things — then  must 
Philosophy  be  content  to  relinquish  all  claim  to  certitude,  and 
find  refuge  again  in  Faith. 

And  Descartes  is  wTong.  The  very  Consciousness  to  which 
he  appeals,  convicts  him.  There  is  this  fallacy  in  his  system ; 
Consciousness  is  the  ultimate  ground  of  certitude,  for  me  ; if  I 
am  conscious  that  I exist,  I cannot  doubt  that  I exist ; if  I am 
conscious  of  pain,  I must  be  in  pain.  This  is  self-evident.  But 
what  ground  of  certitude  can  my  Consciousness  afford  respecting 
things  which  are  not  me  ? How  does  the  principle  of  certitude 
apply  ? How  far  does  it  extend  ? It  can  only  extend  to  things 
which  relate  to  me.  I am  conscious  of  all  that  passes  within 
myself ; but  I am  not  conscious  of  what  passes  in  not-self : ail 
that  I can  possibly  know  of  the  not-self  is  in  its  effects  upon  me. 

Consciousness  is  therefore  “ cabin’d,  cribb’d,  confined”  to  me, 
and  to  what  passes  within  me  ; so  far  does  the  principle  of  cer- 
titude extend,  and  no  farther.  Any  other  ideas  we  may  have, 
any  knowledge  we  may  have  respecting  not-self  can  only  be 
founded  on  inferences.  Thus,  I burn  myself  in  the  fire : J 


i52 


DESCAKTKS. 


am  conscious  of  the  sensation ; I have  certain  and  immediate 
knowledge  of  that.  But  I can  only  be  certain  that  a change  has 
taken  place  in  my  consciousness ; when  from  that  change  I infer 
the  existence  of  an  external  object  (the  fire),  my  inference  may 
be  correct,  but  I have  obviously  shifted  my  ground ; Conscious- 
ness— my  principle  of  certitude — forsakes  me  here  : I go  out  of 
myself  to  infer  the  existence  of  something  which  is  not-self.  My 
knowledge  of  the  sensation  was  immediate^  indubitable.  My 
knowledge  of  the  object  is  mediate,  uncertain. 

Directly  therefore  we  leave  the  ground  of  Consciousness  for 
that  of  inference,  avenues  of  doubt  are  opened.  Other  inferences 
can  be  brought  to  bear  upon  any  one  inference  to  illustrate  or  to 
refute  it.  The  mathematical  certainty  which  Descartes  attributed 
to  these  inferences  becomes  a great  uncertainty.  He  says  we 
only  know  things  through  the  medium  of  ideas.  We  will  accept 
the  proposition  as  unque-stionable.  But  then  he  also  says  that, 
in  consequence  of  this,  whatever  we  find  in  the  ideas  must  neces- 
sarily be  true  of  the  things.  The  reason  is,  that  as  ideas  are 
caused  in  us  by  objects,  and  as  every  effect  must  have  as  much 
reality  as  the  cause — the  effect  being  equal  to  the  cause — so  must 
ideas  have  the  same  reality  as  things.  But  this  is  a double  fal- 
lacy. In  the  first  place,  an  effect  is  not  equal  to  its  cause ; it  is 
a mere  consequent  of  an  antecedent,  having  no  such  relation  as 
equality  whatever.  In  the  second  place,  the  use  of  the  term 
“ reality”  is  ambiguous.  Unquestionably  an  effect  really  exists; 
but  reality  of  existence  does  not  imply  similarity  of  modes  of 
existence.  The  burn  occasioned  by  a fire  is  as  real  as  the  fire  ; 
but  it  in  no  way  resembles  the  fire. 

So  when  Descartes  says  that  what  is  true  of  ideas  must  be  true 
of  things,  he  assumes  that  the  mind  is  a, passive  recipient — a mir- 
ror, in  which  things  reflect  themselves.  This  is  altogether  fal- 
lacious; the  mind  is  an  active  co-operator  in  all  sensation — sen- 
sation is  a consciousness  of  changes  operated  in  ourselves,  not  a 
consciousness  of  the  objects  causing  those  changes.  In  truth,  so 
far  from  our  being  able  to  apprehend  the  nature  of  things  ex« 


IS  THE  METHOD  TEHE  ? 


4:53 


ternal  to  us,  there  is  an  impenetrable  screen  forever  placed  before 
our  eyes,  and  that  impenetrable  screen  is  the  very  Consciousness 
upon  which  Descartes  relies.  When  placed  in  contact  with  ex- 
ternal objects,  they  operate  upon  us ; their  operations  we  know, 
themselves  we  cannot  know ; precisely  because  our  knowledge  of 
them  is  mediate,  and  the  medium  is  our  Consciousness.  Into 
whatever  regions  we  wander,  we  carry,  with  us  this  Conscious- 
ness, by  means  of  which,  indeed,  we  know,  but  all  we  know,  is 
— ourselves. 

Knowledge  is  composed  of  Ideas.  Ideas  are  the  joint  product 
of  mind  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  external  causes  on  the  other ; 
or  rather  we  may  say  that  Ideas  are  the  products  of  mind  excited 
by  external  causes.  Upon  what  principles  of  inference  (since  we 
are  here  on  the  ground  of  inference)  can  you  infer  that  the  ideas 
excited  are  copies  of  the  exciting  causes — that  the  ideas  excited 
apprehend  the  whole  nature  of  the  causes  ? The  cause  of  the 
fallacy  is  in  that  very  strong  disposition  to  give  objectivity  to  a 
law  of  the  mind;  in  consequence  of  which  we  often  hear  people 
declare  that  something  they  are  asserting  is  “ involved  in  the 
idea.” 

There  is  pne  mode  of  escape  left  for  those  who  believe  in  the  ' 
validity  of  ontological  speculations ; namely,  to  assert  the  exist- 
ence of  Innate  Ideas,  or — as  the  theory  is  generally  stated  in 
modern  times — of  Necessary  Truths  independent  of  all  experi- 
ence. If  the  idea  of  God,  for  example,  be  innate  in  us,  it  is  no 
longer  a matter  of  inference,  but  of  Consciousness;  and  on  such 
an  hypothesis  Descartes  is  correct  in  believing  that  the  certainty 
of  this  idea  equals  the  certainty  of  geometry. 

But  some  maintain  that  he  did  not  assert  the  existence  of  In- 
nate Ideas,  though,  from  its  having  been  a doctrine  maintained 
Dy  his  followers,  it  is  usually  attributed  to  him.  Dugald  Stewart 
quotes  the  following  passage  from  Descartes  in  reply  to  his  ad- 
versaries, who  accused  him  of  holding  the  tenet  of  Innate  Ideas : 
— “ When  I said  that  the  idea  of  God  is  innate  in  us,  I never 
meant  more  than  this,  that  Nature  has  endowed  us  with  a facul- 


A54 


DESCARTES. 


ty  by  which  we  may  know  God  ; but  I have  never  either  said 
thought  that  such  ideas  had  an  actual  existence,  or  even  that 
they  were  a species  distinct  from  the  faculty  of  thinking.  . . , 
Although  the  idea  of  God  is  so  imprinted  on  our  minds  that 
every  person  has  within  himself  the  faculty  of  knowing  Him,  it 
does  not  follow  that  there  may  not  have  been  various  individuals 
who  have  passed  through  life  without  making  this  idea  a distinct 
object  of  apprehension  ; and,  in  truth,  they  who  think  they  have 
an  idea  of  a plurality  of  Gods  have  no  idea  of  God  whatever.” 

From  this  it  would  appear  that  he  did  not  hold  the  doctrine 
of  Innate  Ideas.  But  we  must  venture  to  dissent  from  the  con- 
clusion drawn  by  Dugald  Stewart  on  the  strength  of  such  a pas- 
sage ; against  that  passage  we  will  bring  another  equally  explicit 
(we  could  bring  fifty,  if  necessary),  which  asserts  the  existence 
of  Innate  Ideas.  “ By  the  word  idea,'^  he  says,  “ I understand  all 
that  can  be  in  our  thoughts ; and  I distinguish  three  sorts  of 
ideas : — adventitious,  Ijke  the  common  idea  of  the  sun  ; framed 
by  the  mind,  such  as  that  which  astronomical  reasoning  gives  of 
the  sun ; and  innate,  as  the  idea  of  God,  mind,  body,  a triangle, 
and  generally  all  those  which  represent  true,  immutable,  and  eternal 
essences."*  This  last  explanation  is  distinct;  and  it  is  all  that 
the  serious  antagonists  of  Innate  Ideas  have  ever  combated.  If 
Descartes,  when  pressed  by  objections,  gave  different  explana- 
tions, we  may  attribute  that  to  the  want  of  a steady  conception 
of  the  vital  importance  of  Innate  Ideas  in  his  system.  The  fact 
remains  that  Innate  Ideas  form  the  necessary  groundwork  of  the 
Cartesian  doctrine. 

Although  the  theory  of  Innate  Ideas  may,  in  its  Cartesian 
form,  be  said  to  be  exploded,  it  does  really  continue  to  be  upheld, 
under  a new  form.  A conviction  of  the  paramount  necessity  of 
some  such  groundwork  for  metaphysical  speculation  has  led  to 
the  modern  theory  of  Necessary  Truths.  This  plausible  theorj 
has  been  adopted  by  Dr.  Whewell  in  his  Philosophy  of  the  In 


* Lettres  de  Descartes,  liv. 


IS  THE  METHOD  TRUE  ? 


455 


iuctive  Sciences;  but  bis  arguments  have  been  completely 
shattered  by  John  Mill  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  Sir  John  Her- 
schel  on  the  other.* 

The  basis  of  all  modern  ontological  speculations  lies  in  the  as- 
sumption that  we  have  ideas  independent  of  experience.  Experience 
can  only  tell  us  of  ourselves,  or  of  phenomena ; of  noumena  it 
can  tell  us  nothing.  That  we  have  no  ideas  independent  of  ex- 
perience has  been  clearly  enough  established  in  the  best  schools 
of  psychology ; but  the  existence  of  metaphysical  speculation 
proves  that  the  contrary  opinion  still  finds  numerous  upholders.f 

The  fundamental  question  then  of  modern  Philosophy  was 
this  : Have  we  any  Ideas  independent  of  Experience  ? And  the 
attempt  to  solve  it  will  occupy  the  greater  portion  of  our  history. 
Before  entering  upon  it  we  must  exhibit  the  Method  of  Descartes, 
pushed  to  its  ultimate  conclusions  in  Spinoza. J 

* System  of  Logic.,  book  ii.  ch.  v. ; and  Quarterly  Review,  Jane,  1841 ; in- 
deed, Dr.  Whewell’s  arguments  bad  been  anticipated  and  refuted  by  Locke 
long  before.  See  Essay,  book  iv.  ch.  6,  7. 

+ See  the  question  discussed  further  on : Epoch  VIII.  § v. 

X The  best  modern  works  on  Descartes,  apart  from  regular  Histories  of 
Philosophy,  are  M.  Franeisque  Boullier’s  Histoire  et  Critique  de  la  Revolution 
Cartesienne,  Paris,  1 842 ; M.  Ch.  Eenouvier’s  Manuel  de  la  Philos.  Modeme, 
Paris,  1841 ; and  Feuerbach’s  Qeschichte  der  neuern  Philosophie,  Leipzig,  1847. 
The  best  edition  of  Descartes’  works  is  that  by  Victor  Cousin,  in  eleven  vols., 
8vo.,  Paris,  1826.  M.  Jules  Simon  has  also  published  a cheap  and  conveni- 
ent edition,  in  one  volume,  of  the  Discourse  on  Method,  the  Meditations,  and 
the  Treatise  on  the  Passions,  Paris,  1844,  Both  of  these  have  been  excel- 
lently translated  into  English  (Edinburgh,  1853). 


CHAl’TER  II 


SPINOZA. 

§ I.  Spinoza’s  Life. 

Early  in  the  seventeenth  century,  on  a fair  evening  of  sura* 
mer,  a little  Jewish  boy  was  playing  with  his  sisters  on  the  Burg- 
wall  of  Amsterdam,  close  to  the  Portuguese  synagogue.  His 
face  was  mild  and  ingenious;  his  eyes  were  small,  but  bright 
quick,  and  penetrative ; and  the  dark  hair  floated  in  luxuriant 
curls  over  his  neck  and  shoulders.  Noticeable,  perhaps,  for  his 
beauty  and  joyousness,  the  little  boy  played  amongst  the  active 
citizens  of  that  active  town.  The  Dutch  then  occupied  the 
thoughtful  attention  of  all  Europe.  After  having  flrst  conquered 
for  themselves  firm  footing  on  this  earth,  by  rescuing  their  coun- 
try from  the  sea,  they  had  thrown  off  the  oppressive  yoke  of 
Spain ; and  had  now  conquered  for  themselves  a freedom  from  a 
far  greater  tyranny,  the  tyranny  of  thought. 

Amsterdam  was  noisy  with  the  creaking  of  cordage,  the  bawl- 
ing of  sailors,  and  the  busy  trafficking  of  traders.  The  Zuyder 
Zee  was  crowded  with  vessels  laden  with  precious  stores  from  all 
quarters  of  the  globe.  The  canals  which  ramify  that  city,  like 
a great  arterial  system,  were  blocked  up  with  boats  and  barges : 
the  whole  scene  was  vivid  with  the  greatness  and  the  littleness 
of  commerce.  Heedless  of  all  this  turmoil,  as  unheeded  in  it — 
heedless  of  all  those  higher  mysteries  of  existence,  the  solution 
of  which  was  hereafter  to  be  the  endeavor  of  his  life — untouched 
by  any  of  those  strange  questions  which  a restless  spirit  cannot 
answer,  but  which  it  refuses  to  have  answered  by  others — heed 
less  of  every  thing  but  his  game,  the  little  boy  played  merrily 
with  his  sisters.  That  boy  was  Benedict  Spinoza. 


spestoza’s  life. 


457 


It  is  a pleasant  thing  to  think  of  Spinoza  as  a boy,  playing 
At  boyish  games.  He  has  for  so  long  been  the  bugbear  of  theo- 
logians and  timid  thinkers ; he  has  for  so  long  been  looked  upon 
as  a monster,  an  atheist,  and  (to  add  to  the  horror),  a Jewish 
atheist;  and  looked  upon,  even  by  those  who  were  not  so  aghast 
at  the  consequences  of  his  system,  as  nothing  more  than  a frigid 
logician,  that  we  dwell  with  singular  pleasure  on  any  more  human 
aspect  of  his  character.  We  hope,  ere  we  have  done,  to  con- 
vince the  reader  that  this  rigorous  logician  was  a wise,  virtuous, 
and  affectionate  man. 

His  parents  were  honest  merchants  of  Amsterdam,  who  had 
settled  there  in  company  with  a number  of  their  brethren,  on 
escaping  the  persecution  to  which 'all  Jews  were  subject  in  Spain. 
The  young  Baruch*  was  at  first  destined  to  commerce ; but  his 
passion  for  study,  and  the  precocity  of  his  intellect,  made  his 
parents  alter  their  resolution  in  favor  of  a rabbinical  education  : 
a resolution  warranted  by  sickliness  of  constitution,  which  had 
increased  his  love  of  study.  The  sickly  child  is  mostly  thought- 
ful : he  is  thrown  upon  himself  and  his  own  resources ; he  suf- 
fers, and  asks  himself  the  cause  of  his  pains,  asks  himselt 
whether  the  world  suffers  like  him ; whether  he  is  one  with  na- 
ture, and  subject  to  the  same  laws,  or  whether  he  is  apart  from 
it,  and  regulated  by  distinct  laws.  From  these  he  rises  to  the 
awful  questions — Why  ? Whence  ? and  Whither  ? 

The  education  of  the  Jews  was  almost  exclusively  religious, 
the  Old  Testament  and  the  Talmud  forming  their  principal  stu- 
dies. Spinoza  entered  into  them  with  a fanatical  zeal,  which, 
backed  as  it  was  by  remarkable  penetration  and  subtlety,  won 
the  admiration  of  the  Chief  Rabbin,  Saul  Levi  Morteira,  who  be- 
came his  guide  and  instructor.  Great  indeed  were  the  hopes  en- 
tertained of  this  youth,  who  at  fourteen  rivalled  almost  all  the 
doctors  in  the  exactitude  and  extent  of  his  biblical  knowledge 

* Baruch  was  Spinoza’s  Hebrew  name,  which  he  himself  translated  into 
Latin  as  Benedietus ; from  which  some  have  erroneously  supposed  that  he 
tmbraced  Christianity,  whereas  he  only  renounced  Judaism. 


i58 


SPINOZA. 


But  these  hopes  were  turned  to  fears,  when  they  saw  that  young 
and  pertinadous  spirit  pursue  his  undaunted  inquiries  into  what- 
ever region  they  conducted  him,  and  found  him  putting  difficul- 
ties to  them  which  thev,  Rabbins  and  philosophers,  were  unable 
to  solve. 

Spinoza  was  to  be  deterred  neither  by  threats  nor  by  sophisti- 
cations. He  found  in  the  Old  Testament  no  mention  of  the  doc- 
trine of  immortality : there  was  complete  silence  on  the  point.* 
He  made  no  secret  of  his  opinions;  and  two  of  his  schoolfel- 
lows, irritated  at  his  intellectual  superiority,  or  else  anxious  to 
curry  favor  with  the  Rabbins,  reported  his  heresy  with  the  usual 
fertility  of  exaggeration.  Summoned  to  appear  before  the  Syn- 
agogue, he  obeyed  with  a gay  carelessness,  conscious  of  his  inno- 
cence. His  judges,  finding  him  obstinate  in  his  opinions,  threat- 
ened him  with  excommunication : he  answered  with  a sneer. 
Morteira,  informed  of  the  danger,  hastened  to  confront  his  re- 
bellious pupil ; but  Spinoza  remained  as  untouched  by  his  rhet- 
oric as  he  was  unconvinced  by  his  arguments.  Enraged  at  this 
failure,  Morteira  took  a higher  tone,  and  threatened  him  with 
excommunication,  unle.ss  he  at  once  retracted.  His  pupil  was 
irritated,  and  replied  in  sarcasms.  The  Rabbin  then  impetuously 
broke  up  the  assembly,  and  vowed  “only  to  return  with  the 
thunderbolt  in  his  hand.” 

In  anticipation  of  the  threatened  excommunication,  Spinoza 
wisely  withdrew  himself  from  the  Synagogue — a step  which 
protoundly  mortified  his  enemies,  as  he  thereby  rendered  futile  all 
intimidations  which  had  been  employed  against  him,  particularly 
the  otherwise  terrible  excommunication ; for  what  terror  could 
such  a sentence  inspire  in  one  who  voluntarily  absented  himsel) 
from  the  society  which  pretended  to  exclude  him  ? 

Dreading  his  ability,  and  the  force  of  his  example,  the  Syna- 
gogue made  him  an  offer  of  an  annual  pension  of  a thousand 

* On  this  silence  Warbnrton  endeavored  to  establish  the  divinity  of  the 
Legation  of  Moses  ; and  Bishop  Sherlock  has  exerted  considerable  ingenuity 
in  explaining  the  discrepancy  which  skeptics  had  seized  hold  of  as  an  argu- 
ment in  their  favor. 


SPINOZA'S  LIFE. 


459 


florins,  if  he  would  only  consent  to  be  silent,  and  assist  from  time 
to  time  at  their  ceremonies.  Spinoza,  indignant  at  such  an  at- 
tempt to  palter  with  his  conscience,  refused  it  with  scorn.  One 
evening,  as  he  was  coming  out  of  the  theatre,  where  he  had 
been  relaxing  his  overtasked  mind,  he  was  startled  by  the  fierce 
expression  of  a dark  face,  thrust  eagerly  before  his.  The  glare 
of  bloodthirsty  fanaticism  arrested  him ; a knife  gleamed  in  the 
air,  and  he  had  barely  time  to  parry  the  blow.  It  fell  upon  his 
chest,  but,  fortunately  deadened  in  its  force,  only  tore  his  coat. 
The  assassin  escaped.  Spinoza  walked  home  thoughtful.* 

The  day  of  excommunication  at  length  arrived ; and  a vast 
concourse  of  Jews  assembled  to  witness  the  awful  ceremony.  It 
began  by  the  solemn  and  silent  lighting  of  a quantity  of  black 
wax  candles,  and  by  opening  the  tabernacle  wherein  were  depos- 
ited the  Books  of  the  Law  of  Moses.  Thus  were  the  dim  imagina- 
tions of  the  faithful  prepared  for  all  the  horror  of  the  scene.  Mor- 
teira,  the  ancient  friend  and  master,  now  the  fiercest  enemy  of  the 
condemned,  was  to  order  the  execution  of  the  sentence.  He 
stood  there,  pained,  but  implacable  ; the  people  fixed  their  eager 
eyes  upon  him.  High  above,  the  chanter  rose  and  chanted  forth, 
in  loud,  lugubrious  tones,  the  words  of  execration  ; while  from 
the  opposite  side  another  mingled  with  these  curses  the  thrilling 
sounds  of  the  trumpet ; and  now  the  black  candles  were  reversed, 
and  were  made  to  melt,  drop  by  drop,  into  a huge  tub  filled  with 
blood.  This  spectacle — a symbol  of  the  most  terrible  faith — 
made  the  whole  assembly  shudder ; and  when  the  final  Anath- 
ema Maranatha!  were  uttered,  and  the  lights  all  suddenly  im- 
merced  in  the  blood,  a cry  of  religious  horror  and  execration 
burst  from  all ; and  in  that  solemn  darkness,  and  to  those  solemn 
curses,  they  shouted  Amen,  Amen ! • 

Thus  was  the  young  truth-seeker  expelled  from  his  commu- 


*■  Some  of  the  biographers  contradict  Bayle’s  statement  of  the  assassina- 
tion being  attempted  as  Spinoza  was  leaving  the  theatre,  and  declare  that  ha 
was  coming  from  the  Synagogue;  hut  they  forget  that  he, had  entirely  re- 
nounced going  there,  and  this  was  the  probable  motive  of  the  assassin. 


160 


SPINOZA. 


nily.  bis  friends  and  relations  forbidden  to  bold  intercourse  with 
biin.  Like  the  yoang  and  energetic  Sbelky,  who  afterwards  im 
itated  bini,  be  found  bimself  an  outcast  in  this  busy  world,  with 
no  other  guides  tbrougb  its  perplexing  labyrinths  than  sincerity 
and  self-dependence.  Two  or  three  new  friends  soon  presented 
themselves ; men  wno  warred  against  their  religion  as  he  had 
warred  against  his  own ; and  a bond  of  sympathy  was  forged 
out  of  a common  injustice.  Here  again  we  trace  a resemblance 
to  Shelley,  who,  discountenanced  by  his  relations,  sought  amongst 
a few  skeptical  friends  to  supply  the  affections  he  was  thus  de- 
prived of.  Like  Spinoza,  he  too  had  only  sisters,  with  whom  he 
had  been  brought  up.  No  doubt,  in  both  cases,  the  conscious- 
ness of  sincerity,  and  the  pride  of  martyrdom,  were  great  sus- 
tainments  in  this  combat  with  society.  They  are  always  so ; and 
it  is  well  that  they  are  so,  or  the  battle  would  never  be  fought ; 
but  they  never  entirely  replace  the  affections.  Shut  out  from 
our  family,  we  may  seek  a brotherhood  of  apostasy ; but  these 
new  and  precarious  intellectual  sympathies  are  small  compensa- 
tion for  the  loss  of  the  emotional  sympathies,  with  all  their  links 
of  association,  and  all  their  memories  of  childhood. 

Spinoza  must  have  felt  this,  and,  to  fill  the  void  of  his  yearn- 
ing heart,  he  sought  the  daughter  of  his  friend  and  master,  Van 
den  Ende,  as  his  wife. 

This  Van  den  Ende  had  some  influence  on  Spinoza’s  life.  He 
was  a physician  in  Amsterdam,  who  conducted  a philological 
seminary  with  such  success,  that  all  the  wealthy  citizens  sent  him 
their  sons ; but  it  was  afterwards  asserted,  that  to  every  dose  of 
Latin  he  added  a grain  of  atheism.  He  undertook  to  instruct 
Spinoza  in  Latin,  and  to  give  him  board’  and  lodging,  on  condi- 
tion that  he  should  subsequently  aid  him  in  instructing  his  schol- 
ars. This.  Spinoza  accepted  with  joy ; for  although  master  of 
the  Hebrew,  German,  Spanish,  Portuguese  (and  of  course  Dutch) 
languages,  he  had  long  felt  the  urgent  necessity  of  Latin. 

Van  den  Ende  had  a daughter;  her  personal  charms  were 
equivocal,  but  she  was  thoroughly  versed  in  Latin,  and  was  an 


Spinoza’s  life. 


461 


accomplislied  musician.  The  task  of  teaching  young  Benedict 
generally  fell  to  her : and  as  a consequence  the  pupil  soon  be- 
came in  love  with  the  tutor.  We  often  picture  this  courtship  as 
a sort  of  odd  reverse  of  Abelard  and  Heloise.  Spinoza  we  fancy 
not  inattentive  to  the  instruction,  but  the  more  in  love  with  it 
coming  from  so  soft  a mouth  : not  inattentive,  yet  not  wholly  ab- 
sorbed. He  watches  her  hand  as  it  moves  along  the  page,  and 
longs  to  squeeze  it.  While  “ looking  out”  in  the  dictionary,  their 
hands  touch — and  he  is  thrilled  ; but  the  word  is  found,  never- 
theless. The  lesson  ended,  he  ventures  on  a timid  compliment, 
which  she  receives  with  a kind  smile ; but  the  smile  is  lost, 
for  the  bashful  philosopher  has  his  eyes  on  the  ground ; when 
he  raises  them,  it  is  to  see  her  trip  away  to  household  duties,  or 
to  another  pupil : and  he  looks  after  her  sighing.  But,  alas  for 
maidenly  discernment ! our  female  Abelard  was  more  captivated 
by  the  showy  attractions  of  a certain  Kerkering,  a young  Ham- 
burg merchant,  who  had  also  taken  lessons  in  Latin  and  love 
from  the  fair  teacher ; and  who,  having  backed  his  pretensions 
by  the  more  potent  seductions  of  pearl  necklaces,  rings,  etc., 
quite  cast  poor  Benedict  into  the  shade,  who  then  turned  from 
love  to  philosophy. 

His  progess  in  Latin  had,  however,  been  considerable;  he 
read  it  with  facility,  and  found  it  invaluable  in  his  philosophical 
studies,  especially  as  the  works  of  Descartes  now  fell  into  his 
hands  : these  he  studied  with  intense  avidity,  feeling  that  a new 
world  was  therein  revealed.  The  laws  of  the  ancient  Jewish 
doctors  expressly  enjoin  the  necessity  of  learning  some  mechan- 
ical art,  as  well  as  the  study  of  the  law.  It  was  not  enough, 
they  said,  to  be  a scholar— the  means  of  subsistence  must  also 
be  learned.  Spinoza  had  accordingly,  while  belonging  to  the 
Synagogue,  learnt  the  art  of  polishing  glasses  for  telescopes,  mi- 
croscopes, etc.,  in  which  he  arrived  at  such  proficiency  that  Leib- 
nitz, writing  to  him,  mentioned,  “ Among  the  honorable  things 
which  fame  has  acquainted  me  with  respecting  you,  I learn  with 
no  small  interest  that  you  are  a clever  optician.”  By  polishing 
32 


162 


SPINOZA. 


glasses  he  gained  a subsistence — humble,  it  is  true,  but  equal  to 
his  wants.  To  this  he  joined,  by  way  of  relaxation,  the  study  of 
design,  and  soon  became  very  expert.  Colerus  had  a portfolio 
of  portraits  of  several  distinguished  men,  sketched  by  him  ; and 
one  among  them  was  a portrait  of  himself,  in  the  dress  of  Ma- 
saniello.^' 

In  his  eight-ancl-twentieth  year  Spinoza  left  his  natal  city  of 
Amsterdam,  and  resolving  to  devote  his  life  to  study,  retired  to 
Rhynsburg,  near  Leyden,  where,  still  pursuing  his  trade  as  a 
glass-polisher,  he  devoted  every  spare  hour  to  philosophy.  The 
fruits  of  his  solitude  were  the  Abridgment  of  the  Meditations  of 
Descartes,  with  an  Appendix,  in  which  he  first  disclosed  the 
principal  points  of  his  own  system.  This  is  a very  interesting 
work.  It  contains  the  most  accurate  and  comprehensible  ac- 
count of  Descartes  ever  written ; and  the  Appendix  is  curious,  as 
containing  the  germ  of  the  Ethica.  It  made  a profound  sensa- 
tion; and  when,  the  following  year,  he  removed  to  Woorburg 
a small  village  near  the  Hague,  his  reputation  attracted  to  him 
a great  concourse  of  visitors.  Many  enmities  were  excited 
amongst  the  disciples  of  Descartes,  by  the  exposition  of  the  weak 
points  of  their  master’s  system ; and  Spinoza  had  to  suffer  their 
rude  attacks  in  consequence.  But  the  attention  of  all  thinking 
men  was  fixed  upon  him ; and  the  clearness  and  precision  of  his 
work  won  him  admiration.  So  many  new  friendships  did  he 
form,  that  he  at  last  yielded  to  the  numerous  solicitations  that 
he  should  come  and  live  eutirely  at  the  Hague.  It  was  not  the 
learned  alone  who  sought  his  friendship ; men  of  rank  in  public 
afiairs  were  also  numbered  amongst  them.  Of  the  latter  we  may 
mention  the  celebrated  Jan  de  Witt,  who  loved  Spinoza,  and 
profited  by  his  advice  in  many  an  emergency.  The  great  Conde 
also,  during  the  invasion  of  Holland  by  the  French,  sent  to  de- 


* “Your  enemies  have  not  failed  to  assert  that  by  that  you  pretended  to 
show  that  you  would  create  in  a little  while  the  same  uproar  In  Christianity 
that  Masaniello  created  m Naples.” — Menoontre  de  Bayle  avec  Spinoza  dam 
''autre  Monde.  1711. 


Spinoza’s  life. 


463 


sire  Spinoza  to  come  and  see  him.  The  Philosopher  obeyed,  but 
the  Prince  was  prevented  from  keeping  his  appointment — to  his 
own  loss.  This  journey  was  very  near  proving  fatal  to  Spinoza. 
The  populace  having  learned  that  he  had  been  in  communication 
with  the  enemy,  began  to  suspect  him  of  being  a spy.  His  land- 
lord, alarmed  at  these  reports,  warned  him  of  them;  he  feared, 
he  said,  that  the  populace  would  attack  the  house.  “ Fear  noth 
ing,”  replied  Spinoza,  calmly  ; “ it  is  easy  for  me  to  justify  my- 
self, and  there  are  persons  enough  who  know  the  object  of  my 
journey  ; but  whatever  may  arrive,  as  soon  as  the  people  assemble 
before  your  door,  I will  go  out  and  meet  them,  even  though  1 
should  share  the  fate  of  De  Witt.”  The  same  calm  courage 

which  made  him  proclaim  the  truth,  now  made  him  ready  to 

confront  the  infuriated  populace.  Fortunately  all  passed  off  in 
peace,  and  he  was  left  to  his  studies.  Karl  Ludwig,  anxious  to 

secure  so  illustrious  a thinker,  offered  him  the  vacant  chair  of 

Philosophy  at  Heidelberg,  which,  however,  Spinoza  could  not 
accept,  conscious  that  the  philosophy  he  would  teach  was  too 
closely  allied  to  theology  not  to  trench  on  its  dogmas ; and  the 
Elector  had  expressly  stipulated  that  he  should  teach  nothing 
which  could  prejudice  the  established  religion.  He  therefore 
begged  to  decline  it,  as  his  public  duties  would  interfere  with  his 
private  meditations.  Yet  it  was  both  a lucrative  and  honorable 
post  he  refused ; but  a philosophical  contempt  for  worldly  honors 
was  amongst  his  characteristics. 

It  is  invigorating  to  contemplate  Spinoza’s  life.  Dependent 
on  his  own  manual  exertions  for  his  daily  bread,  limited  in  his 
wants,  and  declining  all  pecuniary  assistance  so  liberally  offered 
by  his  friends,  he  was  always  at  ease,  cheerful,  and  occupied. 
There  is  an  heroic  firmness  traceable  in  every  act  of  his  life ; 
there  is  a perpetual  sense  of  man's  independence,  worthy  all  imi- 
tation. He  refuses  to  accept  the  belief  of  another  man — he  will 
believe  for  himself ; he  sees  mysteries  around  him,  awful,  inex- 
plicable ; but  he  will  accept  of  no  man’s  explanation.  God  has 
given  him  a soul,  and  with  that  he  will  solve  the  problem,  or 


SPINOZA. 


i6i 

remain  -without  a solution.  He  leaves  the  Synagogue ; he  leaves 
Descartes ; he  thinks  for  himself.  In  a far  subordinate  sphere 
he  will  also  assert  his  independence.  Having  but  the  most  mis- 
erable pittance,  and  with  the  purses  of  his  friends  open  to  him, 
he  preferred  limiting  his  desires  to  accepting  their  bounties.  He 
preferred  working  and  gaining  his  own  subsistence,  so  long  as  it 
was  to  be  gained.  This  was  no  crotchet,  neither  was  it  ignoble 
calculation.  The  friends  were  sincere,  their  offers  were  sincere  : 
he  knew  it,  but  thanked  them,  and  declined.  The  heritage, 
* which  on  his  father’s  death  fell  to  his  lot,  he  resigned  to  his  sis- 
ters. The  large  property  which  his  friend  Simon  de  Vries  had 
announced  his  intention  of  leaving  him,  he  would  not  consent  to 
accept,  but  made  Simon  alter  his  will  in  favor  of  his  brother,  at 
Schiedam.  The  pension  offered  him  if  he  would  dedicate  his 
next  work  to  Louis  XIV.,  he  refused,  “having  no  intention  of 
dedicating  any  thing  to  that  monarch.”  He  was  indebted  to  no 
one  but  to  God ; who  had  given  him  talents,  and  energy  to  make 
those  talents  available,  not  to  let  them  and  him  rot  in  idleness,  or 
in  ignoble  dependence,  while  all  the  world  had  to  toil.* 

Yet  it  was  a hard,  griping  poverty  that  he  endured.  On  look- 
ing over  his  papers  after  his  death,  they  found  accounts  of  his 
expenditure.  One  day  he  ate  nothing  but  a soupe  au  lait,  with 
a little  butter,  which  cost  about  three  halfpence,  and  a pot  of 
beer,  which  cost  three  farthings  more.  Another  day  he  lived  on 
a basin  of  gruel,  with  some  butter  and  raisins,  which  cost  him 
twopence  halfpenny ; “ And,”  says  the  pastor  Colerus,  “ although 
often  invited  to  dinner,  he  preferred  the  scanty  meal  that  he 
found  at  home,  to  dining  sumptuously  at  the  expense  of  another.’ 
This  was  the  man  who  was,  by  his  contemporai’ies,  branded  with 
the  names  of  Atheist  and  Epicurean ; and  who  has  borne  these 

■*  It  was  in  a man’s  own  energy  that  he  saw  the  germ  of  worth  and  great- 
ness, and  -wisely  ridiculed  the  notion  of  patronage  in  this  noteworthy  pas- 
sage: “Governments  should  never  found  academies,  for  they  serve  more  to 
oppress  than  to  encourage  genius.  The  unique  method  of  making  the  arts 
and  sciences  flourish,  is  to  allow  every  individual  to  teach  what  he  thinks,  at 
his  own  risk  and  peril.” — Tract.  Polit.  o.  8,  § 49. 


Spinoza’s  life. 


465 


names  forever  after  througli  all  Europe,  excepting  only  Germany, 
While  on  the  one  hand  no  man  was  perhaps  ever  more  filled 
with  religion  (so  that  Novalis  could  call  him  a “ God-intoxicated 
man”),  on  the  other  hand  his  Epicureanism,  at  twopence-half- 
penny  sterling  per  diem,  stands  a legible  charge  against  him. 

The  publication  of  his  Tractatus  Theologico-Politicus  was  an 
event  of  some  importance,  both  in  the  history  of  philosophy  and 
of  Spinoza.  The  state  of  men’s  minds  at  that  period  was  not 
favorable  to  the  reception  of  any  great  philosophical  system ; 
and  Spinoza  found  himself  obliged  to  prepare  the  way  for  his 
future  doctrines,  by  examining  the  nature  of  that  ecclesiastical 
power  which  could  excite  at  will  such  violent  perturbation  in 
the  State,  and  by  examining  also  the  foundations  on  which  that 
power  reposed.  This  great  question  still  agitates  mankind ; and 
it  is  as  curious  as  instructive  to  observe  that  the  late  orthodox 
and  estimable  Dr.  Arnold  taught  a doctrine  precisely  similar  to 
that  taught  by  the  heretical  and  persecuted  Spinoza.* 

Times  were  troubled.  Holland,  it  is  true,  was  reposing  on 
her  laurels,  won  in  the  long  and  desperate  struggle  against 
Spain.  Having  freed  herself  from  a foreign  yoke,  she  had,  one 
would  fancy,  little  now  to  do  but  to  complete  her  canals,  extend 
her  commerce,  and  enjoy  her  peace.  But  this  land  of  political 
freedom — this  ark  of  refuge  for  the  persecuted  of  all  nations — 
the  republic  whose  banner  was  freedom,  and  in  whose  cities  Eu- 
ropean freethinkers  published  their  works — was  disturbed  by 
theological  faction.  The  persecuted  Jews  might  flock  from 
Spain  and  Portugal,  the  synagogue  might  rear  itself  beside  the 
church ; the  Protestants  of  France  and  Belgium  were  welcome 
as  brothers  and  citizens ; but,  arrived  there,  the  fugitives  might 
witness,  even  there,  the  implacable  war  of  party.  Toleration 
was  afforded  to  political  freethinking,  and  to  the  diversities  of 
religion;  but,  within  the  pale  of  the  State  religion,' malice  and 
all  uncharitableness  were  daily  witnessed.  There  the'  Gomarists 

* Compare  Arnold,  Introductory  Lectures  on  Modern  History : Appendix 
to  the  first  Lee'  ure. 


466 


SPINOZA. 


and  Arminians  disputed  concerning  the  infallibility  of  their  doc- 
trines, and  cloaked  their  political  ambition  under  evangelical 
protestations.* 

This  was  the  state  of  things  on  the  appearance  of  the  Trac- 
tatus.  Spinoza,  seeing  the  deplorable  dissensions  of  the  theolo- 
gians, endeavored  to  make  evident  the  necessity  of  a State 
religion,  which,  without  absolutely  imposing,  or  interfering  with, 
private  creeds,  should  regulate  all  outward  observances.  Because, 
as  it  is  the  office  of  the  State  to  watch  over  all  that  concerns 
the  common  welfare,  so  should  it  watch  over  the  Church,  and 
direct  it  according  to  the  general  wish.  But  two  things  per 
fectly  distinct  must  not  here  be  confounded,  viz.  liberty  of 
observance  and  liberty  of  thought.  The  latter  is  independent  of 
all  civil  power ; but  the  former  must  be  subject  to  it,  for  the 
sake  of  the  public  tranquillity. 

Although  this  portion  of  the  Tractatus  could  not  have  met 
with  general  approbation,  yet  it  would  scarcely  have  raised 
violent  dissensions,  had  Spinoza  confined  himself  to  such  specu- 
lation ; but,  anticipating  the  rationalism  of  modern  Germans,  he 
undertook  a criticism  of  the  Bible,  and  attacked  the  institution 
of  priesthood  as  injurious  to  the  general  welfare.  It  is  curious 
to  notice  Spinoza’s  anticipation  of  the  Hegelian  Christology, 
which,  in  the  hands  of  Strauss,  Feuerbach,  and  Bruno  Bauer, 
has  made  so  much.noise  in  the  theological  world  : — “I tell  you,” 
says  Spinoza,  in  his  letter  to  Oldenburg,  “ that  it  is  not  necessary 
for  your  salvation  that  you  should  believe  in  Christ  according  to 
the  flesh ; but  of  that  eternal  son  of  God,  i.  e.  eternal  wisdom  of 
God,  which  is  manifested  in  all  things,  but  mostly  in  the  human 
mind,  and  most  of  all  in  Jesus  Christ,  a very  different  concep- 
tion must  be  formed.” — “Dico  ad  salutem  non  esse  omnino 
necesse,  Christum,  secundum  carnem  noscere,  sed  de  seterno  illo 
filio  Dei,  hoc  est,  Dei  seterna  sapientia,  quae  sese  in  omnibus 
rebus,  et  maxime  in  mente  humana  et  omnium  maxime  in 


Saintes,  Eiatoire  de  la  Vie  de  Spinoza,  p.  63. 


Spinoza’s  life. 


467 


Christo  Jesu  manifestavit,  longe  aliter  sentiendum.”*  The  con- 
sequences were  as  might  have  been  expected : the  book  was  at 
once  condemned,  and  forbidden  to  be  received  in  almost  every 
country.  This,  as  usual,  only  gave  a greater  stimulus  to  curi- 
osity, and  the  sensation  the  work  produced  may  be  judged  of 
by  the  quantity  of  “ refutations  ” which  appeared.  Many  were 
the  artifices  used  to  introduce  it  into  the  various  countries.  An 
edition  was  published  at  Leyden,  under  this  title : Dan.  Hensii 
Operum  Historicorum  collectio  prima.  Edit.  II.,  priori  editione 
multo  emendatior  et  auctior  ; accedunt  quosdam  hactenus  inedita. 
This  was  reprinted  at  Amsterdam  as  Henriquez  de  Villacorta, 
M.  Dr.  a Cubiculo  Philippi  IV.,  Caroli  II.,  Archiatri  Opera 
chirurgica  omnia,  sub  auspiciis  potentissimi  Eispaniarum  Regis. 
This  absurd  title  was  adopted  to  pass  it  into  Spain.  Another 
edition  in  French,  called  La  Clef  du  Sanctuaire,  was  published 
at  Leyden  in  1678,  and  in  Amsterdam  as  Traite  des  Ceremonies 
des  Jui/s,  and  again  as  Reflexions  curieuses  d'un  Esprit,  des- 
interesse. 

Spinoza’s  devotion  to  study,  with  its  concurrent  abstemious- 
ness and  want  of  exercise,  soon  undermined  his  constitution ; 
but  he  never  complained.  He  suffered  that,  as  he  had  suffered 
every  thing  else — in  silence.  Once,  only,  a hint  escapes  him. 
“If  my  life  be  continued,”  he  writes  to  a friend  respecting  a 
promise  to  explain  certain  matters.  No  plaint — no  regret — 
merely  a condition  put  upon  a promise.  He  was  a calm,  brave 
man ; he  could  confront  disease  and  death,  as  he  had  confronted 
poverty  and  persecution.  Bravery  of  the  highest  kind  distin- 
guished him  through  life,  and  it  was  not  likely  to  fail  him  on 
the  quitting  it;  and  yet  beneath  that  calm,  cold  stoicism,  there 
was  a childlike  gayety  springing  from  a warm  and  sympathizing 
heart.  His  character  was  made  up  of  generous  simplicity  and 
heroic  forbearance.  He  could  spare  somewhat  from  even  his 
scanty  pittance  to  relieve  the  wretched.  He  taught  the  learned 


Ojiera  Fosthuma,  p.  450. 


1:68 


SPINOZA. 


world  the  doctrines  he  had  elaborated  with  endless  toil;  but  ha 
taught  children  to  be  regular  in  their  attendance  on  divine  ser- 
vice. He  would  question  his  host  and  hostess,  on  their  return 
from  church,  I'especting  the  sermon  they  had  heard,  and  the 
benefit  they  had  derived.  He  had  no  unwise  proselytism  which 
would  destroy  convictions  in  minds  unfitted  to  receive  others. 
One  day  his  hostess  asked  him  if  he  believed  that  she  would  be 
saved  by  her  religion.  He  answered,  “ Your  religion  is  a good 
one — you  ought  not  to  seek  another,  nor  doubt  that  yours  will 
procure  your  salvation,  provided  you  add  to  your  piety  the 
tranquil  virtues  of  domestic  life.”  Words  full  of  wisdom,  spring- 
ing from  an  affectionate  and  experienced  mind. 

So  lived  the  Jew,  Spinoza.  So  he  developed  his  own  nature, 
and  assisted  the  development  in  others.  Given  up  to  philosophy, 
he  found  in  it  “ the  time  medicine  of  the  soul  ” of  which  Cicero 
speaks.*  His  onlj'  relaxations  were  his  pipe,  receiving  visitors, 
chatting  to  the  people  of  his  house,  and  watching  spiders  fight. 
This  last  amusement  would  make  the  tears  roll  down  his  cheeks 
with  laughter. 

The  commencement  of  the  year  found  him  near  his  end. 
The  phthisis,  which  he  had  suffered  from  for  twenty  years,  now 
alarmingly  increased.  On  Sunday,  the  22d  February,  he  insisted 
on  his  kind  host  and  hostess  leaving  him,  and  attending  divine 
service,  as  he  would  not  permit  his  illness  to  obstruct  their  devo- 
tions. They  obeyed.  On  their  return  he  talked  with  them 
about  the  sermon,  and  ate  some  broth  with  a good  appetite. 
After  dinner  his  friends  returned  to  church,  leaving  the  physician 
with  him.  When  they  came  home  they  learned,  with  sorrow 
and  surprise,  that  he  had  expired  about  three  o’clock,  in  the 
presence  of  the  physician,  who  seized  what  money  there  was  on 
the  table,  together  with  a silver-handled  knife,  and  left  the  body 
without  further  care.  So  died,  in  his  forty-fifth  year,  in  the  full 
vigor  and  maturity  of  his  intellect,  Benedict  Spinoza.  “ Ofl:er 

* Cicero,  Tmc,  iii.  6,  Compare  also  the  fine  saying  of  Giordano  Bruno 
Ip.  898). 


SPINOZA  S DOCTKINE. 


469 


up  -with  me  a lock  of  hair  to  the  manes  of  the  holy  but  repudi- 
ated Spinoza !”  exclaims  the  pious  Schleiermacher.  “ The  great 
spirit  of  the  world  penetrated  him ; the  Infinite  was  his  beginning 
and  his  end ; the  universe  his  only  and  eternal  love.  He  was 
filled  with  religion  and  religious  feeling  ; and  therefore  it  is  that 
he  stands  alone,  unapproachable ; the  master  in  his  art,  but 
elevated  above  the  profane  world,  without  adherents,  and  with- 
out even  citizenship.”* 

§ II.  Spinoza’s  Doctrine. 

The  system  of  Spinoza,  which  has  excited  so  much  odium,  is 
but  the  logical  development  of  the  system  of  Descartes  which  has 
excited  so  much  admiration.  Curious ! The  demonstration  of 
the  existence  of  God  was  one  of  Descartes’  proudest  laurels ; the 
demonstration  of  the  existence  of  God — and  of  no  other  exist- 
ence being  possible — condemned  Spinoza  to  almost  universal 
execration. 

Dugald  Stewart,  generally  one  of  the  most  candid  of  men,  evi- 
dently shared  the  common  prejudice  with  respect  to  Spinoza. 
He  refuses  therefore  to  admit  that  Spinoza,  whom  he  dislikes, 
held  opinions  at  all  similar  to  those  of  Descartes,  whom  he  ad- 
mires. “ It  was  in  little  else,”  says  he,  “ than  his  physical  prin- 
ciples that  he  agreed  with  Descartes ; for  no  two  philosophers 
ever  differed  more  widely  in  their  metaphysical  and  theological 
tenets.  Fontenelle  characterizes  his  system  as  Cartesianism 
pushed  to  extravagance.”  This  is  far  from  correct.  Spinoza 
diflfered  with  Descartes  on  a few  points,  and  agreed  with  him  on 
most ; the  difi'erences  were  only  those  of  a more  rigorous  logical 
development  of  the  principles  both  maintained. 

It  was  at  an  important  era  in  Spinoza’s  life  that  the  writings 
of  Descartes  fell  in  his  way.  He  was  then  striving  to  solve  for 
himself  the  inexplicable  riddle  of  the  universe.  He  had  studied 
with  the  learned  Morteira ; but  though  wise  in  all  the  wisdom 


*■  Schleiermacher,  Bede  uher  die  Religion,  p.  47. 


i70 


SPINOZA. 


of  the  Jews,  he  was  still  at  au  immeasurable  distance  from  the 
desired  solution.  Descartes  captivated  him  by  the  boldness  of 
his  logic,  and  by  the  independent  nature  of  his  Method,  whereby 
truth  was  sought  in  the  inner  world  of  man,  not  in  the  outward 
world,  nor  in  the  records  of  authority.  He  studied  Descartes 
with  avidity ; but  he  soon  found  that  there  also  the  riddle  re- 
mained unsolved.  He  found  the  fact  of  his  own  existence  some- 
what superfluously  established ; but  the  far  greater  existence  in 
which  his  own  was  included — of  which  the  great  All  was  but  a 
varied  manifestation — of  this  he  found  no  demonstration.  Cogito, 
ergo  sum,  is  irresistible.  Cogito,  ergo  Deus  est,  is  no  basis  for 
philosophy. 

Spinoza  therefore  asked  himself — What  is  the  noumenon  which 
lies  beneath  all  phenomena  ? We  see  everywhere  transforma- 
tions perishable  and  perishing ; yet  there  must  be  something  be- 
neath, which  is  imperishable,  immutable ; what  is  it?  We  see 
a wondrous  universe  peopled  with  wondrous  beings,  yet  none  of 
these  beings  exist  per  se,  but  per  aliud : they  are  not  the  authors 
of  their  own  existence ; they  do  not  rest  upon  their  own  reality, 
but  on  a greater  reality — on  that  of  the  ‘to  sv  ical  ro  irav.  What 
is  this  reality  ? 

The  question,  Spinoza  thought,  could  not  be  answered  by  the 
idea  of  Perfection.  No  : the  great  reality  of  all  existence  is  Sub- 
stance. Not  Substance  in  the  gross  and  popular  sense  of  “body” 
or  “ matter,”  but  the  substans — that  which  is  standing  under  all 
phenomena,  supporting  and  giving  them  reality.  What  is  a 
phenomenon  ? An  appearance,  a thing  perceived : a state  of 
the  perceiving  mind.  But  what  originates  this  perception — 
what  changes  the  mind  from  its  prior  to  its  present  state  ? Some- 
thing, external  and  extrinsic,  changes  it.  What  is  this  some- 
thing ? What  it  is,  in  itself,  we  can  never  know : because  to 
know  it  would  bring  it  under  the  forms  and  conditions  of  the 
mind,  i.  e.  would  constitute  it  a phenomenon  ; — unknown,  there- 
fore, but  not  denied — this  ens — this  something,  is ; and  this, 
which  Kant  calls  noumenon,  Spinoza  calls  Substance. 


471 


Spinoza’s  doctrine. 

All  philosophy,  as  all  existence,  must  start  from  me  principle, 
which  must  he  the  ground  of  all.  What  is  this  commencement 
— this  ? Perfection,  replies  Descartes.  No,  says  Spinoza. 

Perfection  is  an  attribute  of  something  prior  to  it.  Substance  is 
the  Descartes,  in  common  with  most  philosophers,  had 

assumed  a duality : he  had  assumed  a God,  and  a world  created 
by  God.  Substance,  to  him,  was  by  no  means  the  primal  fact  of 
all  existence;  on  the  contrary,  he  maintained  that  both  Exten- 
sion and  Thought  were  Substances  ; in  other  words,  that  mind 
and  matter  were  distinct  independent  Substances,  different  in 
essence,  and  united  only  by  God.  Spinoza  affirmed  that  both 
Extension  and  Thought  were  nothing  more  than  Attributes ; and 
by  a subtle  synthesis  he  reduced  the  duality  of  Descartes  to 
an  all-embracing  unity,  and  thus  arrived  at  a conception  of 
the  One. 

The-  absolute  Existence — the  Substance — (call  it  what  you 
will)  is  God.  From  Him  all  individual  concrete  existences  arise. 
All  that  exists,  exists  in  and  by  God ; and  can  only  thus  be  con- 
ceived. Here  then  the  mystery  of  the  world  begins  to  unfold 
itself  to  the  patient  thinker ; he  recognizes  God  as  the  fountain 
of  life ; he  sees  in  the  universe  nothing  but  the  manifestation  of 
God  ; the  finite  rests  upon  the  bosom  of  the  infinite  ; the  incon- 
ceivable variety  resolves  itself  into  unity.  There  is  but  one  real- 
ty, and  that  is  God. 

Such  was  Spinoza’s  solution  of  the  problem : upon  this  he  felt 
he  could  repose  in  peace,  and  upon  this  only.  To  live  with  God 
— to  know  God  with  perfect  knowledge,  was  the  highest  point 
of  human  development  and  happiness ; and  to  this  he  conse- 
crated his  life.  Taking  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  “ In  Him  we  live, 
move,  and  have’ our  being,”  as  his  motto,  he  undertook  to  trace 
the  relations  of  the  world  to  God  and  to  man,  and  those  of  man 
to  society. 

Spinoza  agreed  with  Descartes  in  these  three  vital  positions  • 
— I.  The  basis  of  all  certitude  is  Consciousness.  II.  Whatever 
is  clearly  perceived  in  Consciousness  must  therefore  be  necessari* 


172 


SPIKOZA. 


ly  true ; and  distinct  ideas  are  true  ideas,  true  expressions  of  ol> 
jective  existences.  III.  Consequently  metaphysical  problems  are 
susceptible  of  mathematical  demonstration. 

The  only  novelty  in  Spinoza’s  Method  is,  that  it  is  a further 
development  of  the  Method  of  Descartes.  Descartes  thought 
that  the  mathematical  Method  was  capable  of  being  applied  to 
metaphysics,  but  he  did  not  apply  it ; Spinoza  did  apply  it. 
This  may  seem  a trifling  addition : in  reality  it  was  the  source 
of  alt  the  differences  between  Spinoza  and  his  teacher.  Des- 
cartes’ principles  will  inevitably  lead  to  Spinoza’s  system,  if  those 
principles  are  rigorously  carried  out.  But  Descartes  never  at- 
tempted the  rigorous  deduction  of  those  consequences,  which 
Spinoza,  using  the  mathematical  method,  calmly  and  inflexibly 
deduced.  Those  who  rebel  at  the  conclusions  drawn,  must  im- 
jmgu  the  premises  from  which  they  are  drawn;  for  the  system 
of  Spinoza  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a demonstration. 

To  this  demonstration  we  are  about  to  lead  our  readers,  and 
only  beg  of  them  a little  steady  attention  and  a little  patient 
thought,  convinced  that  they  will  then  have  little  difficulty  in 
finding  their  ^way.  We  shall  translate  some  portions  of  the 
Ethica  with  the  utmost  care,  because  we  think  it  every  way  ad- 
visable that  the  reader  should  have  Spinoza’s  own  mode  of  state- 
ment, and  thereby  be  enabled  to  watch  his  manner  of  deducing 
his  conclusions  from  his  premises.  The  work  opens  with  eight 

nEFINITIONS. 

I.  By  a thing  which  is  its  own  Cause  I understand  a thing, 
the  essence  of  which  involves  existence ; or  the  nature  of 
which  can  only  be  considered  as  existent,*  , 

II.  A thing  finite  is  that  which  can  be  limited  {terminari  po- 
test) by  another  thing  of  the  same  nature,  e.g.  body  is  said 


^ This  is  an  important  definition,  as  it  gets  rid  of  tlie  verbal  perplexity 
hitherto  felt  relative  to  an  “ end.’ess  chain  of  causes.”  The  doubter  might 
always  ask  the  cause  of  the  first  cause  in  the  series ; but  here,  by  identi- 
fying cause  and  existence.  Spinoza  annihiiates  the  diflSculty 


SPINOZA  S DOG.TEINE. 


473 


to  be  finite  because  it  can  always  be  conceived  as  larger. 
So  thought  is  limited  by  other  thoughts.  But  body  does 
not  limit  thought,  nor  thought  limit  body. 

m.  By  Substance  I understand  that  which  exists  in  itself,  and 
is  conceived  per  se : in  other  words,  the  conception  of 
which  does  not  require  the  conception  of  any  thing  else 
antecedent  to  it. 

IV.  By  Attribute  I understand  that  which  the  mind  perceives 
as  constituting  the  very  essence  of  Substance. 

V.  By  Modes  I understand  the  accidents  (affectiones)  of  Sub- 
stance ; or  that  which  is  in  something  else,  through  which 
also  it  is  conceived. 

VI.  By  God  I understand  the  Being  absolutely  infinite,  i.  e.  the 
Substance  consisting  of  infinite  Attributes,  each  of  which 
expresses  an  infinite  and  eternal  essence. 

Explanation : I say  absolutely  infinite,  but  not  infinite  sue 
genere  ; for  to  whatever  is  infinite  only  suo  genere,  we  can 
deny  infinite  Attributes ; but  that  which  is  absolutely  in- 
finite includes  in  its  essence  every  thing  which  implies  es- 
sence, and  involves  no  negation. 

VII.  That  thing  is  said  to  be  free  which  exists  by  the  sole  ne- 
cessity of  its  nature,  and  by  itself  alone  is  determined  to 
action.  But  that  thing  is  necessary,  or  rather  constrained, 
which  owes  its  existence  to  another,  and  acts  according  to 
certain  and  determinate  causes. 

VIII.  By  Eternity  I understand  Existence  itself,  in  as  far  as  it  is 
conceived  necessarily  to  follow  from  the  sole  definition  of 
an  eternal  thing. 

These  are  the  Definitions ; they  need  not  long  be  dwelt  on, 
although  frequently  referred  to  by  him ; above  all,  no  objection 
ought  to  be  raised  against  them,  as  unusual  or  untrue,  for  they 
are  the  meanings  of  various  terms  in  constant  use  with  Spinoz,a, 
and  he  has  a right  to  use  them  as  he  pleases,  provided  he  does 
not  afterwards  depart  from  this  use,  which  he  is  careful  not  to 
do.  We  now  come  to  the  seven  axioms. 


i74 


SPINOZA. 


AXIOMS. 

I.  Every  thing  which  is,  is  in  itself,  or  in  some  other  thing. 

II.  That  which  cannot  be  conceived  through  another  [peraliud) 
must  be  conceived  through  itself  [per  se). 

III.  From  a given  determinate  cause  the  effect  necessarily  fol- 
lows ; and  vice  versd,  if  no  determinate  cause  be  given,  no 
effect  can  follow. 

IV.  The  knowledge  of  an  effect  depends  on  the  knowledge  of 
the  cause,  and  implies  it. 

V.  Things  that  have  nothing  in  common  with  each  other  can- 
not be  understood  by  means  of  each  other,  i.  e.  the  concep- 
tion of  one  does  not  involve  the  conception  of  the  other. 

VI.  A true  idea  must  agree  with  its  object  [idea  vera  debet  cum 
suo  ideato  convenire.) 

VII.  Whatever  can  be  clearly  conceived  as  non-existent,  does 
not,  in  its  essence,  involve  existence. 

These  axioms  at  once  command  assent,  if  we  except  the 
fourth,  which,  because  the  wording  is  ambiguous,  has  been 
sometimes  thought  absurd  ; but  the  truth  is,  that  the  opposite 
conceptions  now  prevalent  respecting  cause  and  effect  prevent  a 
real  appreciation  of  this  axiom.  Mr.  Hallarn  goes  so  far  as  to 
say,  “ It  seems  to  be  in  this  fourth  axiom,  and  in  the  proposition 
grounded  upon  it,  that  the  fundamental  fallacy  lurks.  The  rela- 
tion between  a cau.se  and  effect  is  surely  something  perfectly  dif- 
ferent from  our  perfect  comprehension  of  it,  or  indeed  from  our 
having  any  knowledge  of  it  at  all ; much  less  can  the  contrary 
assertion  be  deemed  axiomatic.”*  There  is  a want  of  subtlety 
in  this  criticism,  as  well  as  a want  of  comprehension  of  Spinoza's 
doctrines  ; and  we  wonder  it  never  suggested  itself  to  Mr.  Hallarn 
that  the  modern  notions  of  cause  and  effect  do  not  correspond 
with  the  Spinozistic  notions.  In  the  above  axiom  it  is  not 
meant  that  there  are  no  effects  manifested  to  us  of  which  we 


Introduction  to  Literature  of  Europe,  iv.  246. 


Spinoza’s  doctrine. 


475 


do  not  also  know  the  causes — it  is  not  meant  that  a man  receiv- 
ing a blow  in  the  dark  is  not  aware  of  that  blow  (effect), 
though  ignorant  of  the  immediate  cause.  What  is  meant  is, 
Jiat  a complete  and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  effect  is 
only  to  be  obtained  through  a complete  and  comprehensive 
knowledge  of  the  cause.  If  you  would  know  the  effect  in  its 
totality — in  itself — you  must  know  also  the  cause  in  its  totality. 
This  is  obvious : for  what  is  an  effect  ? — an  eflfect  is  a cause  re- 
alized : it  is  the  natura  naturans  conceived  as  natura  naturata. 
We  call  the  antecedent.  Cause,  and  the  sequent,  Effect;  but 
these  are  merely  relative  designations  : the  sequence  itself  is 
antecedent  to  some  subsequent  change,  and  the  former  ante- 
cedent was  once  only  a sequent  to  its  cause ; and  so  on.  Causa- 
tion is  change ; when  the  change  is  completed,  we  name  the 
result  effect.  It  is  only  a matter  of  naming.  But  inciting  this 
change,  causing  it,  as  we  say,  there  is  • some  power  (cause)  in 
nature ; to  know  this  effect  therefore — that  is,  not  merely  to 
have  a relative  conception  of  our  own  condition  consequent  on 
it,  but  to  comprehend  this  power,  this  reality,  to  penetrate  its 
mystery,  to  see  it  in  its  totality,  we  must  know  what  the  effect 
is,  and  how  it  is ; we  must  know  its  point  of  departure,  and  its 
point  of  destination ; in  a word,  we  must  transcend  the  knowledge 
of  phenomena,  and  acquire  that  of  noumena.  In  a popular  sense 
we  are  said  to  know  effects,  but  to  be  ignorant  of  causes. 
Truly,  we  are  ignoran  of  both — and  equally  ignorant.  A 
knowledge  of  sequences  we  have,  and  of  nothing  more.  The 
vital  power  determining  these  sequences  we  name,  but  cannot 
know ; we  may  call  it  attraction,  heat,  electricity,  polarization, 
etc.,  but,  having  named,  we  have  not  explained  it. 

This  is  what  Spinoza  implicitly  teaches;  and  had  Mr.  Hallam 
attended  only  to  what  the  very  next  axiom  proclaims,  namely, 
that  things  have  nothing  in  common  with  each  other,  cannot  be 
understood  by  means  of  each  other,  i,  e.  the  conception  of  one 
not  involving  the  conception  of  the  other — he  would  have  un- 
derstood Spinoza’s  meaning;  for,  if  effect  be  from  cause, 

I 


SPINOZA. 


tTG 

then  its  conception  does  not  involve  the  conception  of  cause; 

out  if  it  be  the  same  as  cause,  then  does  the  one  conception  in- 
volve that  of  the  other;  ergo^  the  more  complete  the  knowledge 

of  the  one,  the  more  complete  the  knowledge  of  the  other. 

The  reader  will  bear  this  in  mind  when  studying  Spinoza. 

We  will  now  proceed  to  the 

PKOPOSITIONS. 

Prop.  I.  Substance  is  prior  in  nature  to  its  accidents. 

Demonstration,  Per  Definitions  3 and  6. 

Prop.  II.  Two  Substances,  having  different  Attributes,  have 
nothing  in  common  with  each  other. 

Demonst.  This  follows  from  Def.  3 ; for  each  Substance  must  be 
conceived  in  itself  and  through  itself ; in  other  words,  the 
conception  of  one  does  not  involve  the  conception  of  the 
other. 

Prop.  III.  Of  things  which  have  nothing  in  common,  one  can- 
not be  the  cause  of  the  other.* 

Demonst.  If  they  have  nothing  in  common,  then  (per  Axiom  5) 
they  cannot  be  conceived  by  means  of  each  other ; ergo 
(per  Axiom  4)  one  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the  other. 

Q.  E.  D. 

Prop.  IV.  Two  or  more  distinct  things  are  distinguished  among 
themselves  either  through  the  diversity  of  their  Attributes, 
or  through  the  diversity  of  their  Modes. 

Demonst.  Every  thing  which  is,  is  m itself  or  in  some  other 
thing  (per  Axiom  1) ; that  is  (per  Def.  3 and  5),  there  is 


* This  fallacy  has  been  one  of  the  most  influential  corrupters  of  philosoph- 
ical speculation.  For  many  years  it  was  undisputed ; and  most  metaphy- 
sicians still  adhere  to  it.  See  Mill’s  System  of  Logic,  ii.  876-386.  The 
assertion  is  that  only  like  can  act  upon  like.  This  was  the  assumption  of 
Anaxagoras,  and  the  groundwork  of  his  system.  If  the  assumption  be  cor- 
rect, his  system  is  true.  But  although  it  is  true  that  like  produces  (causes) 
like,  it  is  also  as  true  thatZife  produces  unlike;  thus  fire  produces  when 
applied  to  our  bodies,  explosion  when  applied  to  gunpowder,  charcoal  when 
applied  to  wood ; all  these  effects  are  unlike  the  cause.  Spinoza’s  positior 
is  logical ; those  who  have  since  upheld  the  fallacy  have  not  that  excuse. 


Spinoza's  doctkine. 


477 


nothing  out  of  ourselves  {extra  intellectum)  but  Substance 
and  its  Modes.  There  is  nothing  out  of  ourselves  whereby 
things  can  he  distinguished  amongst  one  another,  except 
Substances,  or  (which  is  the  same  thing,  per  Def.  4*)  their 
Attributes  and  Modes. 

Prop.  V.  It  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  two  or  more 
Substances  of  the  same  nature,  or  of  the  same  Attribute. 

Demonst.  If  there  are  many  different  Substances,  they  must  be 
distinguished  by  the  diversity  of  their  Attributes,  or  of  their 
Modes  (per  Prop.  4).  If  only  by  the  diversity  of  their 
Attributes,  it  is  thereby  conceded  that  there  is  nevertheless 
only  one  Substance  of  the  same  Attributes  ; but  if  by  the 
diversity  of  their  Modes,  it  follows  that  Substance  being 
prior  in  nature  to  its  Modes,  it  must  be  considered  inde- 
pendently of  them  ; that  is  (per  Def.  3 and  6),  cannot  be 
conceived  as  distinguished  from  another  ; that  is  (per  Prop. 
4),  there  cannot  be  many  Substances,  but  only  one  Sub- 
stance. Q.  E.  D. 

Prop.  VI.  One  Substance  cannot  be  created  by  another  Sub- 
stance. 

Demonst.  There  cannot  be  two  Substances  with  the  same  At- 
tributes (per  Prop.  5) ; i.  e,  (per  Prop.  2),  having  any  thing 
in  common  with  each  other ; and  therefore  (per  Prop.  3) 
one  cannot  be  the  cause  of  the  other. 

Corollary.  Hence  it  follows  that  Substance  cannot  be  created  by 
any  thing  else.  For  there  is  nothing  in  existence  except 
Substance  and  its  Modes  (per  Axiom  1,  and  Def.  3 and  5) ; 
now  this  Substance,  not  being  created  by  another,  is  self- 
caused. 

Corollary  2.  This  proposition  is  more  easily  to  be  demonstrated 
by  the  absurdity  of  its  contradiction  ; — for  if  Substance  can 


* In  the  original,  by  a slip  of  the  pen.  Axiom  4 is  referred  to  instead  of 
Def.  4;  and  Auerbach  has  followed  the  error  in  his  translation.  We  notice 
it  because  the  reference  to  Axiom  4 is  meaningless,  and  apt  to  puzzle  tho 
student. 


33 


1:78 


SPINOZA. 


be  created  by  any  thing  else,  the  conception  of  it  would  de- 
pend on  the  conception  of  the  cause  (per  Axiom  4 *),  and 
hence  (per  Def.  3)  it  would  not  be  Substance. 

Prop.  VII.  It  pertains  to  the  nature  of  Substance  to  exist. 
Demonst.  Substance  cannot  be  created  by  any  thing  else  (per 
Coroll.  Prop.  6),  and  is  therefore  the  cause  of  itself ; i.  e. 
(per  Def.  1)  its  essence  necessarily  involves  existence  ; or 
it  pertains  to  the  nature  of  Substance  to  exist.  Q.  E.  D. 
Prop.  VIII.  All  Substance  is  necessaril}'  infinite. 

Demonst.  There  exists  but  one  Substance  of  the  same  Attribute ; 
and  it  must  either  exist  as  infinite  or  as  finite.  But  not  as 
finite,  for  (per  Def.  2)  as  finite  it  must  be  limited  by  another 
Substance  of  the  same  nature,  and  in  that  case  there  would 
be  two  Substances  of  the  same  Attribute,  which  (per  Prop. 
5)  is  absurd.  Substance  therefore  is  infinite.  Q.  E.  D. 

Scholium. — I do  not  doubt  that  to  all  who  judge  confusedly 
of  things,  and  are  not  wont  to  inquire  into  first  causes,  it  will  be 
diffisult  to  understand  the  demonstration  of  Pro]).  7,  because 
they  do  not  sufficiently  distinguish  between  the  modifications  of 
Substance,  and  Substance  itself,  and  are  ignorant  of  the  manner 
in  which  things  are  produced.  Hence  it  follows,  that  seeing 
natural  things  have  a commencement,  they  attribute  a commence- 
ment to  Substances ; for  he  who  knows  not  the  true  causes  of 
things,  confounds  all  things,  and  sees  no  reason  why  trees  should 
not  talk  like  men ; or  why  men  should  not  be  formed  from 
stones  as  well  as  from  seeds  ; or  why  all  forms  cannot  be  changed 
into  all  other  forms.  So,  also,  those  who  confound  the  divine 
nature  with  the  human,  naturally  attribute  human  affections  to 
God,  especially  as  they  are  ignorant  how  these  affections  are 
produced  in  the  mind.  But  if  men  attended  to  the  nature  of 
Substance,  they  would  not  in  the  least  doubt  the  truth  of  Prop. 
7 ; nay,  this  proposition  would  be  an  axiom  to  all,  and  would  be 
numbered  among  common  notions.  For  by  Substance  they 


Here  the  potency  and  significance  of  Axiom  4 begins  to  unfold  itself. 


Spinoza’s  doctkine. 


4Y9 


would  understand  that  which  exists  in  itself,  and  is  conceived 
through  itself ; i.  e.  the  knowledge  of  which  does  not  require  the 
knowledge  of  any  thing  antecedent  to  it.*  But  by  modification 
they  would  understand  that  which  is  in  another  thing,  the  con- 
ception of  which  is  formed  through  the  conception  of  the  thing 
in  which  it  is,  or  to  which  it  belongs ; we  can  therefore  have 
correct  ideas  of  non-existent  modifications,  because,  although 
out  of  the  understanding  they  have  no  reality,  yet  their  essence 
is  so  comprehended  in  that  of  another,  that  they  can  be  con- 
ceived through  this  other.  The  truth  of  Substance  (out  of  the 
understanding)  lies  nowhere  but  in  itself,  because  it  is  conceived 
per  se.  If  therefore  any  one  says  that  he  has  a distinct  and 
clear  idea  of  Substance,  and  yet  doubts  whether  such  a Sub- 
stance exist,  this  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  he  has  a true  idea, 
and  nevertheless  doubts  whether  it  be  not  false  (as  a little  atten- 
tion sufiBciently  manifests)  ; or,  if  any  man  affirms  Substance  to 
be  created,  he  at  the  same  time  affirms  that  a true  idea  has  be- 
come false ; than  which  nothing  can  be  more  absurd.  Hence 
it  is  necessarily  confessed  that  the  existence  of  Substance,  as 
well  as  its  essence,  is  an  eternal  truth.  And  hence  we  must 
conclude  that  there  is  only  one  Substance  possessing  the  same 
Attribute ; a position  which  requires  here  a fuller  development. 
I note  therefore — 

1.  That  the  correct  definition  of  a thing  includes  and  expresses 
nothing-  but  the  nature  of  the  thing  defined.  From  which  it 
follows — 

2.  That  no  definition  includes  or  expresses  a distinct  number 
of  individuals,  because  it  expresses  nothing  but  the  nature  of  the 
thing  defined  ; e.g.  the  definition  of  a triangle  expresses  no  more 
than  the  nature  of  a triangle,  and  not  any  fixed  number  of 
triangles. 


* The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  the  result  of  Descartes’  philosophy,  if  lie 
would  fully  seize  Spinoza’s  meaning  and  the  basis  on  which  it  reposes. 
Descartes,  as  we  saw,  could  find  nothing  indubitable  but  existence.  Exist- 
ence was  the  primal  fact  of  all  philosophy,  self-evident  and  indisputable. 


i80 


SPINOZA. 


3.  There  must  necessarily  be  a distinct  cause  for  the  existence 
of  every  existing  thing. 

4.  This  cause,  by  reason  of  which  any  thing  exists,  must  be 
either  contained  in  the  nature  and  definition  of  the  existing  thing 
(viz.  that  it  pertains  to  its  nature  to  exist),  or  else  must  lie  beyond 
it — must  be  something  different  from  ft. 

From  these  positions  it  follows,  that  if  a certain  number  of  indi- 
viduals exist,  there  must  necessarily  be  a cause  why  that  number, 
and  not  a larger  or  smaller  number : e.  g.  if  in  the  world  twenty 
men  exist  (whom,  for  greater  perspicuity,  I suppose  to  exist  at 
once,  no  more  having  previously  existed),  it  will  not  be  sufiicient 
to  show  the  reason  why  twenty  men  exist,  to  point  to  human 
nature  as  the  cause,  but  it  will  further  be  necessary  to  show  cause 
why  only  twenty  men  exist,  because  (per  note  3)  a cause  must  be 
given  for  the  existence  of  every  thing.  This  cause  however  (per 
notes  2 and  3)  cannot  be  contained  in  human  nature  itself, 
because  the  true  definition  of  man  does  not  involve  the*  number 
twenty.  Hence  (per  note  4)  the  cause  why  twenty  men  exist, 
and  why  each  individual  exists,  must  lie  beyond  each  of  them ; 
and  therefore  must  we  absolutely  conclude  that  every  thing,  the 
nature  of  which  admits  of  many  individuals,  must  necessarily 
have  an  external  cause.  As  therefore  it  pertains  to  the  nature 
of  Substance  to  exist,  so  must  its  definition  include  a necessary 
existence,  and  consequently  from  its  sole  definition  we  must  con- 
clude its  existence.  But,  as  from  its  definition,  as  already  shown 
in  notes  2 and  3,  it  is  not  possible  to  conclude  the  existence  of 
many  Substances,  ergo  it  necessarily  follows  that  only  one  Sub- 
stance of  the  same  nature  can  exist.” 

Here  we  may  pause  in  our  translation,  before  we  penetrate  too 
far  in  this  geometrical  exposition  of  Spinoza’s  theology.  Enough 
has  already  been  given  to  exhibit  the  rigor  and  precision  with 
which  the  consequences  are  deduced  step  by  step,  each  propo- 
sition being  evolved  from  those  which  preceded  it;  and  he  who 
wishes  to  follow  the  system  in  detail  must  open  the  Ethics  for 
himself,  abridgment  being  impossible.  To  complete  our  expo- 


spenoza’s  doctkine. 


481 


sition  of  the  doctrine,  we  shall  merely  state  in  a few  sentences 
the  principal  positions : 

There  is  but  one  infinite  Substance,  and  that  is  God.  What- 
ever is,  is  in  God ; and  without  Him,  nothing  can  be  conceived. 
He  is  the  universal  Being  of  which  all  things  are  the  manifesta- 
tions. He  is  the  sole  Substance ; every  thing  else  is  a Mode ; yet, 
without  Substance,  Mode  cannot  exist.  God,  viewed  under  the 
attributes  of  Infinite  Substance,  is  the  natura  naturans^ — viewed 
as  a manifestation,  as  the  Modes  under  which  his  attributes 
appear,  he  is  the  natura  naturata.  He  is  the  cause  of  all  things, 
and  that  immanently,  but  not  transiently.  He  has  two  infinite 
attributes — Extension  and  Thought.  Extension  is  visible  Thought, 
and  Thought  is  invisible  Extension : they  are  the  Objective  and 
Subjective  of  which  God  is  the  Identity.  Every  thing  is  a mode 
of  God’s  attribute  of  Extension ; every  thought,  wish,  or  feeling, 
a mode  of  his  attribute  of  Thought.  That  Extension  and  Thought 
are  not  Substances,  as  Descartes  maintained,  is  obvious  from  this  ; 
that  they  are  not  conceived  per  se,  but  per  aliud.  Something  is 
extended:  what  is?  Not  the  Extension  itself,  but  something 
prior  to  it,  viz.  Substance.  Substance  is  uncreated,  but  creates 
by  the  internal  necessity  of  its  nature.  There  may  be  many 
existing  things,  but  only  one  existence ; many  forms,  but  only 
one  Substance.  God  is  the  “ idea  immanens  ” — the  One  and  All. 

Such  is  a brief  outline  of  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  Spinoza ; 
and  now  we  ask  the  reader,  can  he  reconcile  the  fact  of  this 
being  a most  religious  philosophy,  with  the  other  fact  of  its 
having  been  almost  universally  branded  with  Atheism  ? Is  this 
intelligible  ? Yes ; three  causes  present  themselves  at  once. 
1.  The  readiness  with  which  that  term  of  obloquy  has  been  ap- 
plied to  opponents,  from  time  immemorial — to  Socrates  as  to 
Gottlieb  Fichte.  2.  The  obscurity  of  polemical  vision,  and  the 
rashness  of  party  judgment.  3.  The  use  of  the  ambiguous  word 
Substance,  whereby  God  was  confounded  with  the  material  world. 

This  last  point  is  the  most  important,  and  deserves  attention. 
To  say  “ God  is  the  infinite  substance,”  does  look,  at  first  sight, 


482 


SPINOZA. 


like  the  atheism  of  the  D’Holbach  School;  but  no  one  could 
ever  have  read  twenty  pages  of  Spinoza  without  perceiving  this 
to  be  a misunderstanding ; for  he  expressly  teaches  that  God  is 
not  corporeal,  but  that  body  is  a Mode  of  Extension.^  No : 
God  is  not  the  material  universe,  but  the  universe  is  one  aspect 
of  his  infinite  Attribute  of  Extension  ; he  is  the  identity  of  the 
natura  naturans  and  the  natura  naturata.j 

It  is  a mere  verbal  resemblance,  therefore,  this,  of  Spinozism 
to  Atheism ; but  the  history  of  philosophy  shows  too  many 
instances  of  verbal  analogies  and  ambiguities  becoming  sources 
of  grave  error,  to  astonish  any  reader. 

Next  to  the  inevitable  misapprehensions  created  by  Spinoza’s 
use  of  the  word  Substance,  we  must  rank  among  the  sources  of 
his  ill  repute  the  misapprehensions  created  by  his  doctrine  of 
Final  Causes.  Although  Bacon  energetically  reprobated  the 
pursuit  of  Final  Causes — those  “ barren  virgins,”  as  he  charac- 
teristically styled  them — pointing  out  the  productive  error  of  all 
such  pursuit ; and  although  the  advance  and  extension  of  science 
has  gradually  more  and  more  displaced  this  pursuit,  it  is  still 
followed  by  minds  of  splendid  reach  and  attainment,  as  the  surest 
principle  of  research  in  some  departments.  But  although  the 
error  has  the  countenance  of  men  whom  we  cannot  speak  of 


* Dugald  Stewart  somewhat  naively  remarks  that  “ in  no  part  of  Spinoza’s 
works  has  he  avowed  himself  an  Atheist  ” (he  would  have  been  very  much 
astonished  at  the  charge) ; “ but  it  will  not  be  disputed  by  those  who  compre- 
hend the  drift  of  his  reasonings,  that,  in  point  of  practical  tendency.  Atheism 
and  Spinozism  are  one  and  the  same.”  It  may  be  so  ; yet  nothing  can  war- 
rant the  accusation  of  Atheism,  merely  because  Spinoza’s  doctrines  may 
have  the  same  practical  tendency  as  that  of  Atheism.  Spinoza  did  not  deny 
the  existence  of  God ; he  denied  the  existence  of  the  world  : he  was  conse- 
quently an  Acosmist,  not  an  Atheist.  If  the  practical  tendency  of  these  two 
opposite  systems  really  is  the  same,  Spinoza  could  not  help  it. 

+ “ Natura  naturans  et  natura  naturata  in  identitate  Deus  est.”  It  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  identity  does  not  (as  in  common  usage)  mean  same- 
ness, but  the  root  from  which  spring  two  opposite  stems,  and  in  which  they 
have  a common  life.  Man,  for  instance,  is  the  identity  of  soul  and  body; 
water  is  the  identity  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen.  Great  mistakes  are  con- 
stantly being  made,  owing  to  overlooking  this  distinction  of  vulgar  and 
philosophical  terms. 


Spinoza’s  docteine. 


483 


without  respect,  the  fact  itself  that  only  in  those  departments  ot 
inquiry,  wherein  imperfect  knowledge  still  permits  the  Meta- 
physical Method  to  exercise  its  perverting  influence,  are  Final 
Causes  ever  appealed  to,  is  significant,  w'e  think,  of  the  nature  of 
the  error.  While  no  Astronomer,  no  Physicist,  no  Chemist 
reasons  teleologically,  there  are  many  Biologists  who  proclaim 
teleology  to  be  a luminous  guide.  Cuvier  declared  that  to  it  he 
owed  his  discoveries;  Owen  declares  that  it  has  often  aided  him. 
We  cannot  hei’e  pause  to  discuss  the  validity  of  final  causes,  but 
the  reader  will  probably  be  glad  to  have  Spinoza’s  remarkable 
analysis,  which  he  throws  into  an  Appendix  at  the  end  of  the 
book  Be  Deo : 

“ Men  do  all  things  for  the  sake  of  an  end,  namely  the  good, 
or  useful,  which  they  desire.  Hence  it  comes  that  they  always 
seek  to  know  only  the  final  causes  of  things  w'hich  have  taken 
place,  and  w'hen  they  have  heard  these  they  are  satisfied,  not 
having  within  themselves  any  cause  for  further  doubt.  But  if 
they  are  unable  to  learn  these  final  causes  from  some  one  else, 
nothing  remains  to  them  but  to  turn  in  upon  themselves,  and  to 
reflect  on  the  ends  by  which  they  are  themselves  w’ont  to  be 
determined  to  similar  actions ; and  thus  they  necessarily  judge 
of  the  mind  of  another  by  their  own.  Further,  as  within  them- 
selves and  out  of  themselves  they  discover  many  means  W'hich 
are  highly  conducive  to  the  pursuit  of  their  own  advantage,— 
for  example,  eyes  to  see  with,  teeth  to  masticate  with,  vegetables 
and  animals  for  food,  the  sun  to  give  them  light,  the  sea  to 
nourish  fish,  etc., — so  they  come  to  consider  all  natural  things 
as  means  for  their  benefit:  and  because  they  are  aware  that  these 
things  have  been  found,  and  not  prepared  by  them,  they  have 
been  led  to  believe  that  some  one  else  has  adapted  these  means 
to  their  use.  For  after  considering  things  in  the  light  of  means, 
they  could  not  believe  these  things  to  have  made  themselves, 
but  arguing  from  their  own  practice  of  preparing  means  for  their 
use,  they  must  conclude  that  there  is  some  ruler  or  rulers  of 
nature  endowed  with  human  freedom,  who  have  provided  all 


m 


SPINOZA. 


these  things  for  them,  and  have  made  them  all  for  the  use  oi 
men.  Moreover,  since  they  have  never  heard  any  thing  of  the 
mind  of  those  rulers,  they  must  necessarily  judge  of  this  mind 
also  by  their  own ; and  hence  they  have  argued  that  the  Gods 
direct  all  things  for  the  advantage  of  man,  in  order  that  they 
may  subdue  him  to  themselves,  and  be  held  in  the  highest  hon.r 
by  him.  Hence  each  has  devised,  according  to  Lis  character,  a 
different  mode  of  worshipping  God,  in  order  that  God  might  love 
him  more  than  others,  and  might  direct  all  nature  to  the  advan- 
tage of  his  blind  cupidity  and  insatiable  avarice.  Thus  this 
prejudice  has  converted  itself  into  superstition,  and  has  struck 
deep  root  into  men’s  minds;  and  this  has  been  the  cause  why 
men  in  general  have  eagerly  striven  to  explain  the  final  causes  of 
all  things.  But  while  they  have  sought  to  show  that  Nature 
does  nothing  in  vain  (^.  e.  which  is  not  fit  for  the  use  of  men), 
they  seem  to  me  to  have  shown  nothing  else  than  that  Nature 
and  the  Gods  are  as  foolish  as  men.  And  observe,  I pray  you, 
to  what  a point  this  opinion  has  brought  them.  Together  with 
the  many  useful  things  in  Nature,  they  necessarily  found  not  a 
few  injurious  things,  namely,  tempests,  earthquakes,  diseases,  etc. ; 
these  they  supposed  happened  because  the  Gods  were  angry  on 
account  of  offences  committed  against  them  by  men,  or  because 
of  faults  incurred  in  their  worship ; and  although  experience  every 
day  protests,  and  shows  by  infinite  examples  that  benefits  and 
injuries  happen  indifferently  to  pious  and  ungodly  persons,  they 
do  not  therefore  renounce  their  inveterate  prejudice.  For  it  was 
easier  to  them  to  class  these  phenomena  among  other  things,  the 
cause  of  which  was  unknown  to  them,  and  thus  retain  their 
present  and  innate  condition  of  ignorance,  than  to  destroy  all  the 
fabric  of  their  belief,  and  excogitate  a new  one.” 

We  cannot  pursue  the  argument  further,  because  in  the  sub- 
sequent positions  Spinoza  refers  to  propositions  proved  in  the 
Ethics  ; what  has  been  given  will  however  suffice  to  show  how 
clearly  and  emphatically  he  described  the  anthropomorphic  tend- 
ency of  judging  Infinite  by  Finite  wisdom.  With  it  we  conclude 


Spinoza’s  doctkine. 


485 


the  exposition  of  Spinoza’s  theology — one  of  the  most  extraordi- 
nary efforts  of  speculative  faculty  which  history  has  revealed  to 
us.  We  have  witnessed  the  mathematical  rigor  with  which  it 
is  developed ; we  have  followed  him  step  by  step,  dragged  on- 
wards by  his  irresistible  logic ; and  yet  the  final  impression  left 
on  our  minds  is,  that  the  system  has  a logical  but  not  a vital  truth. 
We  shrink  back  from  the  consequences  whither  it  so  irresistibly 
leads  us ; we  gaze  over  the  abyss  to  the  edge  of  which  we  have 
been  dragged,  and  seeing  naught  but  chaos  and  despair,  we  re- 
fuse to  build  our  temple  there.  We  retrace  our  steps  with  hur- 
ried earnestness,  to  see  if  no  false  route  has  been  taken ; we 
examine  every  one  of  his  positions,  to  see  if  there  be  not  some 
secret  error,  parent  of  all  other  errors.  Arrived  at  the  starting- 
point,  we  are  forced  to  confess  that  we  see  no  error — that  each 
conclusion  is  but  the  development  of  antecedent  positions ; and 
yet,  in  spite  of  this,  the  mind  refuses  to  accept  the  conclusions. 

This,  then,  is  the  state  of  the  inquirer : he  sees  a vast  chain  of 
reasoning-  carried  on  with  the  strictest  rigor.  He  has  not  been 
dazzled  by  rhetoric  nor  confused  by  illustrations.  There  has 
been  no  artful  appeal  to  his  prejudices  or  passions ; he  has  been 
treated  as  a reasoning  being,  and  has  no  more  been  able  to  doubt 
the  positions,  after  once  assenting  to  the  definitions  and  axioms, 
than  he  is  able  to  doubt  the  positions  of  Euclid.  And  yet  we 
again  say  that  the  conclusions  are  repugned,  refused ; they  are 
not  the  truth  the  inquirer  has  been  seeking ; they  are  no  expres- 
sions of  the  thousand-fold  life,  the  enigma  of  which  he  has  been 
endeavoring  to  solve. 

Unable  to  see  where  this  discrepancy  lies,  he  turns  with  impa- 
tience to  the  Avorks  of  others,  and  seeks  in  criticisms  and  refuta- 
tions an  outlet  from  his  difficulty.  But — and  it  is  a curious 
point  in  the  history  of  philosophy — he  finds  that  this  bold  and 
extraordinary  thinker  has  never  been  refuted  by  any  one  meeting 
him  on  his  own  ground.  Men  have  taken  up  separate  proposi- 
tions, and  having  wrenched  them  from  their  connection  with  the 
whole  system,  have  easily  shown  them  to  be  quite  at  variance 


SPINOZA. 


iSG 

with — the  systems  of  the  vefuters.  This  is  easy  work.*  On  the 
other  hand,  the  inquirer  finds  that  the  great  metaphysicians  of 
Germany  adopt  Spinoza’s  fundamental  positions,  differing  with 
him  only  on  points  of  detail  or  of  language.  In  their  works  the 
consequences  do  not  look  so  appalling,  because  they  are  set  forth 
in  lofty  terms  and  ambiguous  eloquence ; but  the  difference  is 
only  verbal.  Is  there,  then,  no  alternative  ? Must  I accept 
Spinoza’s  system,  repugnant  as  it  is  ? Such  is  the  inquirer’s  per- 
plexity. 

To  release  him  from  this  perplexity  will  perhaps  be  possible, 
although  only  possible,  we  believe,  by  arguments  which  cut  away 
the  root  of  all  metaphysical  knowledge  whatever.  If  Spinoza  is 
in  error,  the  error  must  be  initial,  ^ov  we  have  just  admitted  that 
it  does  not  lie  in  any  illogical  deduction.  And  initial  the  error 
is.  The  method  brings  it  into  distinctness.  The  application  of 
Geometry  to  Metaphysics  is  the  process  most  repulsive  to  meta- 
physicians, because  it  best  serves  to  elucidate  the  nullity  of  their 
attempts.  Geometry  is  purely  deductive ; from  a few  definitions 
and  axioms  the  whole  series  of  consequences  is  evolved.  Meta- 
physics also  is  purely  deductive ; from  a few  definitions  and 
axioms  it  constructs  a universe.  M.  Darairon,  in  his  very  able 
M^moire,  denies  that  the  geometrical  method  can  be  applied  to 
Metaphysics,  because  our  intelligence  cannot  form  notions  so  clear 
and  necessary  respecting  substance,  cause,  time,  good  and  evil,  as 
respecting  points,  lines,  and  surfaces ; and  whenever  such  clear 
notions  have  been  attempted  it  has  only  been  by  sacrificing  some- 
thing of  the  reality,  by  the  consideration  of  one  aspect  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  other.j  This  is  perfectly  true  if  applied  to  meta- 


* This  is  the  way  Bayle  answers  Spinoza ; yet  his  answer  has  been  pro- 
nounced by  Dugald  Stewart  “ one  of  the  most  elaborate  and  acute  refuta- 
tions which  has  yet  appeared.”  Mr.  Stewart’s  dislike  of  the  consequences 
he  believed  inseparable  from  Spinozism  has  here,  we  think,  biased  his  judg- 
ment. Bayle’s  attempt  at  a refutation  is  now  pretty  generally  considered  to 
be  pitiable.  Jacobi  declares  Spinozism  to  be  unanswerable  by  those  whc 
simply  reason  on  the  problem  : faith  alone  can  solve  it  otherwise, 
t Memoire  sur  Spinoza,  19,  20. 


Spinoza’s  doctrine. 


487 


physicians  in  general;  but  is  certainly  not  true  as  applied  to 
Spinoza,  whose  notions  of  substance,  cause,  etc.  are  not  less  clear 
than  his  notions  of  lines  and  surfaces, — a point  we  shall  insist  on 
presently.  Meanwhile  let  us  ask,  lohy  can  we  not  form  notions 
of  cause,  substance,  and  the  rest,  equalling  in  clearness  our  no- 
tions of  lines  and  surfaces  ? The  answer  to  this  question  dooms 
metaphysics  to  eternal  uncertainty  : It  is  because  Geometry  never 
quit's  the  sphere  of  its  first  assumption,  that  its  axioms  retain 
their  necessary  clearness,  and  its  consequences  their  necessary 
truth.  It  begins  with  lines  and  surfaces,  with  lines  and  surfaces 
it  ends ; it  is  a purely  subjective  and  deductive  science.  Its 
truths,  when  objectively  applied,  include  no  other  elements  than 
those  originally  given ; when  from  ideal  lines  and  the  relations 
of  those  lines  we  pass  to  real  lines  and  relations,  we  are  still 
strictly  within  the  sphere  of  lines  and  their  relations;  and  the 
mightiest  geometry  can  tell  us  nothing  whatever  of  any  other 
property  of  substance  ; it  is  powerless  before  any  relations  except 
those  of  surfaces.  If  Metaphysics  could  thus  remain  within  the 
sphere  of  its  original  assumption,  it  also  might  rival  geometry  in 
precision ; but  Metaphysics  unhappily  starts  from  the  subjective 
sphere,  and  immediately  passes  on  to  the  objective,  pretending 
to  include  in  its  circle  far  more  than  is  given  in  the  original  sub- 
jective datum,  pretending  indeed  to  disclose  the  whole  nature  of 
substance,  cause,  time,  and  space,  and  not  merely  certain  relations 
among  our  ideas  of  these.  When,  for  example,  Spinoza  passes 
from  his  ideal  distinction  of  cause  and  effect  to  real  applications, 
as  when  he  proves  that  God  must  act  according  to  the  laws  of 
His  own  nature,  yet  without  constraint,  nothing  determining  Him 
save  His  own  perfection,  it  is  evident  that  by  this  Spinoza  be- 
lieves the  purely  subjective  definition  he  has  framed  expresses 
the  whole  truth  of  objective  reality ; he  pretends  to  know  the 
nature  of  God,  and  to  know  it  through  the  notions  he  has  framed 
of  cause  and  effect.  The  error  here  is  as  great,  though  not  so 
potent,  as  if  a mathematician  were  to  deduce  the  chemical  pro- 
perties of  a salt  from  the  properties  of  right  angles.  To  select 


i88 


SPINOZA. 


another  example,  the  fifth  proposition,  on  which  so  much  of 
Spinoza’s  sj^stem  depends;  “It  is  impossible  that  there  should 
be  two  or  more  Substances  of  the  same  nature,  or  of  the  same 
Attribute.”  This  is  subjectively  true ; as  true  as  a proposition 
in  Euclid ; that  is  to  say,  it  is  perfectly  coherent  with  all  that 
Spinoza  teaches  of  Substance  and.  Attribute ; but  if  we  pass  from 
his  subjective  circle  out  into  the  great  world  of  reality — if  we 
disregard  his  definition,  and  look  only  at  actual  substances  before 
us — say  two  minerals — we  then  fail  to  detect  any  proof  of  his 
subjective  definition  necessarily  or  even  probably  according  with 
objective  fact,  since  we  perceive  the  definition  to  be  framed  from 
his  ideas,  and  not  founded  on  objective  reality. 

The  mathematician  deduces  conclusions  from  purely  subjective 
distinctions,  and  these  conclusions  are  found  to  correspond  with 
objective  fact,  to  nearly  the  whole  extent  of  what  was  originally 
assumed;  namely  the  relations  of  surfaces,  and  no  further.  The 
metaphysician  deduces  conclusions  equally  subjective,  and  it  may 
be  that  such  conclusions  will  apply  to  objective  fact  (as  when  it 
is  said  “nothing  can  be  and  not  be  at  the  same  moment”) ; but 
the  moment  he  transcends  the  circle  of  subjective  distinction,  as 
when  he  speaks  of  Cause,  Time,  Space,  and  Substance,  his  ideas 
are  necessarily  indistinct,  because  he  cannot  know  these  things: 
he  can  only  frame  logical  conclusions  respecting  them,  and  these 
logical  conclusions  at  every  step  need  verification. 

This,  of  course,  the  metaphysician  will  deny.  He  believes  in 
the  validity  of  reason.  He  maintains  the  perfect  competence  of 
human  intellect  to  know  and  discourse  on  Cause,  Time,  Space, 
and  Substance;  but  he  has  not  the  same  clear  argument  Spinoza 
had,  on  which  to  ground  this  belief.  And  here  we  are  face  to 
face  with  the  radicaj  assumption  which  constitutes  the  initial 
error  and  logical  perfection  of  Spinoza’s  system.  He  holds  and 
expressly  teaches  that  the  subjective  idea  is  the  actual  image  or 
complete  expression  of  the  objective  fact.  “ Hoc  est,  id  quod  in 
intellectu  objective  continetur  debet  necessario  in  natuiA  dari.” 
The  order  and  connection  of  ideas  is  precisely  the  order  and 


Spinoza’s  doctrine. 


489 


connection  of  tilings.  In  the  Scholium  to  Pi'op.  VIII.  we  have 
seen  him  maintaining  that  the  correct  definition  of  a thing  ex- 
presses the  nature  of  a thing,  and  nothing  but  its  nature  : which 
|is  true  in  one  sense ; for  unless  it  express  the  nature  of  the 
thing,  the  definition  must  be  incorrect : but  false  in  another  and 
more  important  sense ; for  every  definition  we  can  frame  only 
expresses  our  conceptions  of  the  nature  of  the  thing : and  thus 
we  may  define  the  nature  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  and 
adhere  to  our  definitions  with  the  utmost  logical  rigor,  yet  all  the 
while  be  utterly  removed  from  any  real  knowledge  of  those  in- 
habitants. The  position  is  logically  deducible  from  Spinoza’s 
conception  of  the  relation  between  Thought  and  Extension  as  the 
two  Attributes  of  Substance ; but  it  is  a position  which  is  emphat- 
ically contradicted  by  all  sound  psychology.  Nevertheless,  with- 
out it  Metaphysics  has  no  basis.  Unless  clear  ideas  are  to  be 
accepted  as  the  truths  of  things,  and  unless  every  idea,  which  is 
distinctly  conceived  by  the  mind,  has  its  ideate,  or  object, — met- 
aphysicians are  without  plausible  pretence. 

Having  thus  signalized  the  fundamental  position  of  Spinoza’s 
doctrine,  it  is  there,  if  anywhere,  that  we  shall  be  able  to  show 
his  fundamental  eiTor.  On  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  this  one 
assumption,  must  Spinozism  stand  or  fall ; and  we  have  formerly 
endeavored  to  show  that  the  assumption  is  false.  Those  who 
agree  in  the  reasonings  we  adduced  may  escape  Spinozism,  but 
they  escape  it  by  denying  the  possibility  of  all  Philosophy. 

This  consideration,  that  the  mind  is  not  a passive  mirror  re- 
flecting the  nature  of  things,  but  the  partial  creator  of  its  own 
forms — that  in  perception  there  is  nothing  but  certain  changes 
in  the  percipient — this  consideration,  we  say,  is  the  destruction 
of  the  very  basis  of  metaphysics,  for  it  expressly  teaches  that  the 
subjective  idea  is  not  the  correlate  of  the  objective  fact : and 
only  upon  the  belief  that  our  ideas  are  the  perfect  and  adequate 
images  of  external  things  can  any  metaphysical  speculation  rest, 
Misled  by  the  nature  of  geometry,  which  draws  its  truths  from 
the  mind  as  the  spider  draws  th“  web  from  its  bosom,  Descartes 


1:90 


SPINOZA. 


assumed  that  metaphysical  truths  could  be  attained  in  the  same 
way.  This  was  a confusion  of  reasoning,  yet  Spinoza,  Leibnitz, 
and  their  successors,  followed  him  unhesitatingly.  Spinoza,  how- 
ever, had  read  Bacon’s  denouncement  of  this  a 'priori  Method, 
though  evidently  unprepared  to  see  the  truth  of  the  protest.  It 
IS  curious  to  read  his  criticism  of  Bacon : he  looks  on  it  as  that 
writer's  great  error  to  have  mistaken  the  knowledge  of  the  first 
cause  and  origin  of  things.  “ On  the  nature  of  mind,”  he  says, 
“ Bacon  speaks  very  confusedly ; and  while  he  proves  nothing, 
judges  much.  For  in  the  first  place  he  supposes  that  the  human 
intellect,  besides  the  deceptions  of  the  senses,  is  subject  to  the 
deceptions  of  its  own  nature,  and  that  it  conceives  every  thing 
accordintr  to  the  analomes  of  its  own  nature,  and  not  according 
to  the  analogies  of  the  universe;  so  that  it  is  like  an  unequal 
mirror  to  the  rays  of  things,  which  mixes  the  conditions  of  its 
own  nature  with  those  of  external  things.”* 

We  look  upon  Spinoza’s  aberration  as  remarkable,  however, 
because  he  had  also  seen  that  in  some  sense  the  subjective  was 
not  the  absolute  expression  of  the  objective ; as  is  proved  by  his 
celebrated  argument  for  the  destruction  of  final  causes,  wherein 
he  showed  that  order  was  a thing  of  the  imagination,  as  were 
also  right  and  wrong,  useful  and  hiu-tful — these  being  merely 
such  in  relation  to  us.  Still  more  striking  is  his  anticipation  of 
Kant  in  this  passage : “ Ex  quibus  dare  videre  est,  mensuram, 
tempus,  et  numerum,  nihil  esse  prseter  cogitandi,  seu  potius  ima- 
glnandi  modes which  should  have  led  him  to  suspect  that 
the  same  law  of  mental  forms  was  also  apf)licable  to  all  other 
subjects. 

We  have  pointed  out  the  initial  error,  let  us  now  refer  to  the 
logical  perfection  of  Spinoza’s  system.  M.  Damiron  argues 
against  the  application  of  the  geometric  method,  on  the  ground 


* “ Nam  priino  supponit  quod  intelleotus  liumatuis,  praeter  fallaciam  sen- 
Buum,  sua  sola  natura  fallitur,  omniaque  fingit  exanalogia  suae  naturae,  etnon 
ex  analogia  universi;  adeo  ut  sit  instar  speculi  inaeqiialis  ad  radias  rerum. 
qui  suam  naturaim  naturae  rerum  immisoet.” — Epist.  ii.,  Opera,  p.  338. 


Spinoza’s  doctrine. 


491 


Df  the  imperfecc  conceptions  men  form  of  metaphysical  objects ; 
but  this,  as  already  hinted,  cannot  be  said  of  Spinoza’s  concep- 
tions ; they  are  as  perfect  and  as  clear  as  his  conceptions  of  ge- 
ometry ; whether  they  are  as  accurate  and  comprehensive  as 
they  are  clear,  is  another  question.  Spinoza  w'ould  maintain 
them  to  be  so  ; and  he  would  be  justified  on  his  principles  ; jus- 
tified, indeed,  on  all  logical  principles  of  metaphysics.  Did  we 
not  see  that  the  perfection  of  Mathematics  was  owing  to  its  never 
transcending  the  sphere  of  its  first  assumption,  never  including 
other  elements  than  those  included  in  its  definitions  and  axioms  ? 
Precisely  this  may  also  be  said  of  Spinozism ; its  original  as- 
sumption is,  that  every  clear  idea  expresses  the  actual  nature  of 
the  object;  and  hence  whatever  conclusions  are  logically  evolved 
from  clear  ideas,  will  be  found  objectively  represented  in  the  ex- 
ternal world.  Whether  the  mathematician  worts  a problem  in 
his  mind  with  ideal  surfaces,  or  actually  juxtaposes  substances 
and  points  out  their  relations  of  surface,  the  truths  deduced  are 
equally  valid ; in  the  same  way,  whenever  a Spinozist  works  out 
a problem  with  ideal  elements,  he  is  doing  no  more — on  his  as- 
sumption— than  if  he  had  the  objective  elements  before  him,  and 
could  visibly  disclose  their  relations.  Hence  the  full  justification 
of  Spinoza’s  employment  of  the  geometrical  method.  And  his 
employment  of  it,  while  exciting  the  admiration  of  all  posterity 
for  the  gigantic  power  of  thought  disclosed,  has  had  the  further 
advantage  of  bringing  within  the  narrowest  possible  field,  the 
whole  question  of  the  possibility  of  Metaphysical  certitude. 

We  must  not,  however,  longer  linger  with  this  great  and  good 
man,  and  his  works.  A brave  and  simple  man,  earnestly  medi- 
tating on  the  deepest  subjects  that  can  occupy  the  human  race, 
he  produced  a system  which  will  ever  remain  as  one  of  the  most 
astounding  efi’orts  of  abstract  speculation — a system  that  has 
been  decried,  for  nearly  two  centuries,  as  the  most  iniquitous  and 
blasphemous  of  human  invention ; and  which  has  now,  within 
the  last  sixty  years,  become  the  acknowledged  parent  of  a whole 
nation’s  philosophy,  ranking  among  its  admirers  some  of  the 


4:92 


SPINOZA. 


most  pious  and  illustrious  intellects  of  tlie  age.  The  ribald 
atheist  turns  out,  on  nearer  acquaintance,  to  be  a “God-intox- 
icated man.”  The  blasphemous  Jew  becomes  a pious,  virtuous, 
and  creative  thinker.  The  dissolute  heretic  becomes  a childlike, 
simple,  self-denying,  and  heroic  philosopher.  We  look  into  his 
works  with  calm  earnestness,  and  read  there  another  curious  page 
of  human  history : the  majestic  struggle  with  the  my.steries  of  ex- 
istence has  failed,  as  it  always  must  fail ; but  the  struggle  demands 
our  warmest  approbation,  and  the  man  our  ardent  sympathy. 
Spinoza  stands  out  from  the  dim  past  like  a tall  beacon,  whose 
shadow  is  thrown  athwart  the  sea,  and  whose  light  will  serve  to 
warn  the  wanderers  from  the  shoals  and  rocks  on  which  hun- 
dreds of  their  brethren  have  perished.'^ 


* Spinoza’s  works  have  been  ably  edited  by  Prof.  Paulus,  and  better,  re- 
cently by  Bruder,  in  three  volumes,  12ino.  The  edition  we  use  is  the  quar- 
to, which  appeared  shortly  after  his  death  : B.  D.  S.  Opera  Posihuma,  1677. 
A very  close  and  literal  German  translation  in  five  small  volumes,  by  Berthold 
Auerbach,  was  published  in  1841.  M.  Emile  Saisset  published  one  more 
paraphrastic  in  French.  We  are  aware  of  scarcely  any  thing  in  English, 
critical  or  explanatory,  except  the  account  given  in  Mr.  Hallam’s  Introduction 
to  the  Literature  of  Europe,  and  the  articles  Spinoza  and  Spinozism  in  the 
Penny  Oyclopcedia,  and  Spinoza's  Life  and  Worles  in  the  Westminster  Be- 
view,  May,  1843  (the  three  last  by  the  present  writer). 

Since  the  first  edition  of  this  History,  there  have  appeared  two  remarkable 
articles  by  Mr.  Froude,— one  ort  Spinoza’s  Life,  in  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
Review,  Oct.,  1847,  and  one  on  his  doctrine,  Westminster  Review,  July,  1854. 
An  analysis  of  the  Tractatus  appeared  in  the  British  Quarterly  a few  years 
ago  ; and  a translation  of  the  Tractatus  PoUticus  by  William  Maccall,  1855. 

Besides  historians  of  philosophy  the  following  writers  may  be  consulted; 
Sigwart,  Der  Spinozismus  historisch  und  philosophisch  erlautert;  Herder, 
Gott,  einige  Gesprdche  uber  Spinoza's  System;  Damiron,  Memoirs  sur  Spinoza 
et  sa  Doctrine  (in  the  Memovres  dt  f Acadimie). 


CHAPTER  III. 


FIRST  CRISIS  IN  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  doctrine  of  Spinoza  was  of  great  importance,  if  only  be- 
cause it  brought  about  the  first  crisis  in  modern  Philosophy, 
His  doctrine  was  so  clearly  stated,  and  so  rigorously  deduced 
from  admitted  premises,  that  he  brought  Philosophy  into  this 
dilemma : 

Either  my  premises  are  correct,  and  we  must  admit  that 
every  clear  and  distinct  idea  is  absolutely  true ; true,  not  only 
subjectively,  but  objectively  ; — If  so,  my  system  is  true  ; 

Or  my  premises  are  false ; the  voice  of  Consciousness  is  not 
the  voice  of  truth ; and  if  so,  then  is  my  system  false,  but  all 
Philosophy  is  impossible  : since  the  only  ground  of  Certitude — 
our  Consciousness — is  pronounced  unstable,  our  only  means  of 
knowing  the  truth  is  pronounced  fallacious. 

Spinozism  or  Skepticism  ? choose  between  them,  for  you  have 
no  other  choice. 

Mankind  refused  however  to  make  a choice.  If  the  princi- 
ples which  Descartes  had  established  could  have  no  other  result 
than  Spinozism,  it  was  worth  while  inquiring  whether  those 
principles  themselves  might  not  be  modified. 

The  ground  of  discussion  was  shifted ; psychology  took  the 
place  of  ontology.  It  was  Descartes’  theory  of  knowledge 
which  led  to  Spinozism ; that  theory  therefore  must  be  exam- 
ined : that  theory  henceforth  becomes  the  great  subject  of  dis- 
cussion. Before  deciding  upon  the  merits  of  any  system  which 
embraced  the  great  questions  of  Creation,  the  Deity,  Immor- 
tality, etc.,  men  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  decide  upon  the 
competence  of  the  human  mind  to  solve  such  problems. 

34 


i94 


FIKST  CRISIS  IN  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY. 


All  knowledge  must  be  obtained  either  through  experience,  or 
independent  of  experience.  Knowledge  dependent  on  experience 
must  necessarily  be  merely  knowledge  of  phenomena.  All  are 
agreed  that  experience  can  only  be  experience  of  ourselves  as 
modified  by  objects.  All  are  agreed  that  to  know  things  se 
— noumena — we  must  know  them  through  some  other  channel 
than  experience. 

Have  we,  or  have  we  not,  that  other  channel  ? This  is  the 
problem.  Before  we  can  dogmatize  npon  ontological  subjects, 
we  must  settle  this  question  : 

Can  we  transcend  the  sphere  of  our  Consciousness  and  know 
things  per  se? 

And  this  question  further  resolves  itself  into — Have  we  ideas 
independent  of  experience  ? 

To  answer  this  question  was  the  great  object  of  succeeding 
philosophers.  The  fiict  that  modern  philosophy,  until  Fichte, 
was  almost  exclusively  occupied  with  Psychology  has  been  con- 
stantly noticed  ; but  the  reason  why  Psychology  assumed  this 
importance,  the  reason  why  it  took  the  place  of  all  the  higher 
subjects  of  speculation,  has  not,  we  believe,  been  distinctly 
stated.  Men  have  contented  themselves  with  the  fact  that 
Psychology  occupied  little  of  the  attention  of  antiquity,  still 
less  of  the  attention  of  the  Middle  Ages ; and  only  in  modern 
times  has  it  been  the  real  ground  on  which  the  contests  of  the 
schools  have  been  carried  on.  Psychology  was  the  result  of  a 
tendency  similar  to  that  which  in  science  produced  the  Inductive 
Method.  In  both  cases  a necessity  had  arisen  for  a new  course 
of  investigation ; it  had  become  evident  that  men  had  begun  at 
the  wrong  end,  and  that  before  a proper  answer  could  be  given 
to  any  of  the  questions  agitated,  it  was  necessary  first  to  settle 
the  limits  and  conditions  of  inquiry,  the  limits  and  conditions  of 
the  inquiring  faculties.  Thus  Consciousness  became  the  basis 
of  Philosophy  ; to  make  that  basis  broad  and  firm,  to  ascertain 
its  nature  and  capacity,  became  the  first  object  of  speculation. 


THIRD  EPOCH. 


PHILOSOPHY  REDUCED  TO  A QUESTION  OF  PSYCHOLOGY 


CHAPTER  I, 

HOBBES. 

Perhaps  no  writer  except  Spinoza  has  ever  been  so  uniformly 
depreciated  as  Hobbes.  From  bis  first  appearance  until  the 
present  day  he  has  been  a by-word  of  contempt  with  the 
majority  of  writers ; and  even  by  those  who  have  been  liberal 
enough  to  acknowledge  merit  in  an  adversary,  he  has  been 
treated  as  a dangerous  and  shallow  thinker.  The  first  person 
who  saw  his  importance  as  a political  thinker,  and  had  the 
courage*  to  proclaim  it,  was,  we  believe,  James  Mill.  . But^as 
long  as  political  and  social  theories  continue  to  be  ■j'u(Jged'’bf 
by  their  supposed  consequences,  so  long  will  Hobbes  be  denied  a 
fair  hearing.  He  has  roused  the  odium  theologicum.  It  will  be 
’ong  ere  that  will  be  appeased. 

Faults  he  had,  unquestionably ; short-comings,  incomplete 
views;  and — as  all  error  is  dangerous  in  proportion  to  its  plausi- 
bility— we  will  say  that  he  was  guilty  of  dangerous  errors. 
Let  the  faults  be  noted,  but  not  overstrained ; the  short-comings 
and  incomplete  views,  enlarged  and  corrected ; the  errors  calmly 
examined  and  refuted.  We  shall  be  gainers  by  it;  but  by  in- 
considerate contempt,  by  vilifying,  no  good  result  can  be  ob- 
tained. Impartial  minds  will  always  rank  Hobbes  amongst  the 
greatest  writers  England  Has  produced.  He  is  profound,  and  he 


496 


HOBBES. 


is  clear;  weiglity,  strong,  and  sparkling.  His  style,  as  mere 
style,  is  in  its  way  as  fine  as  any  thing  in  English : it  has  the 
clearness  as  well  as  the  solidity  and  brilliancy  of  crystal.  Nor 
is  the  matter  uifworthy  of  the  form.  It  is  original,  in  the  sense 
of  having  been  passed  through  the  alembic  of  his  own  brain, 
even  when  formerly  the  property  of  others.  Although  little  of 
it  would  now  appear  novel,  it  was  novel  when  he  produced  it. 
Haughty,  dogmatic,  overbearing  in  manner,  he  loved  Truth,  and 
never  hesitated  to  proclaim  her.  “ Harm  I can  do  none,”  he 
says,  in  the  opening  of  the  Leviathan,  “ though  I err  no  less 
than  they  (i,  e.  previous  writers),  for  I shall  leave  men  hut  as 
they  are,  in  doubt  and  dispute  ; but  intending  not  to  take 
any  principle  upon  trust,  but  only  to  put  men  in  mind  of  what 
they  know  already,  or  may  know  by  their  experience,  I hope  tc 
err  less  ; and  when  I do,  it  must  proceed  from  too  hasty  conclud- 
ing, which  I will  endeavor  as  much  as  I can  to  avoid.”* 

In  this  passage  we  see  Locke  anticipated.  It  proclaims  that 
Psychology  is  a science  of  observation  ; that  if  we  would  under- 
stand the  conditions  and  operations  of  our  minds,  we  must 
patiently  look  inwards  and  see  what  passes  there.  All  the  rea- 
soning and  subtle  disputation  in  the  world  will  not  advance  us 
one  step,  unless  we  first  get  a firm  basis  on  fact.  “ Man,”  he 
says  elsewhere,  with  his  usual  causticity,  “ has  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  forming  general  theorems.  But  this  privilege  is 
alloyed  by  another,  that  is,  by  the  privilege  of  absurdity,  to 
which  no  living  creature  is  subject  but  man  only.  And  of  men 
those  are  of  all  most  subject  to  it,  that  profess  Philosophy"  And 
the  cause  of  this  large  endowment  of  the  privilege  to  Philoso- 
phers we  may  read  in  another  passage,  where  he  attributes  the 
difficulty  men  have  in  receiving. Truth,  to  their  minds  being  pre- 
possessed by  false  opinions — they  having  prejudged  the  question. 
The  passage  is  as  follows : — “ When  men  have  once  acquiesced 
in  untrue  opinions,  and  registered  them  as  authenticated  records 


* Wo/rTcs,  edited  by  Sir  W.  Molesworth,  iv.  1. 


HOBBES. 


497 


in  their  minds,  it  is  no  less  impossible  to  speak  intelligibly  to 
such  men  than  to  write  legibly  on  a paper  already  scribbled 
over.” 

Hobbes’s  position  in  the  History  of  Philosophy  is  easily  as- 
signed. On  the  question  of  the  origin  of  our  knowledge  he 
takes  a decided  stand  upon  Experience : he  is  the  precursor  of 
modern  Materialism : 

“ Concerning  the  thoughts  of  man  I will  consider  them  first 
singly,  and  afterwards  in  a train  or  dependence  upon  one  another. 
Singly  they  are  every  one  a rtpresentation  or  appearance  of 
some  quality  or  other  accident  of  a body  without  us,  which  is 
commonly  called  an  ohject.  Which  object  worketh  on  the  eyes, 
ears,  and  other.parts  of  a man’s  body ; and  by  diversity  of  work- 
ing, produceth  diversity  of  appearances. 

“ The  original  of  them  all  is  that  which  we  call  Sense^  for  there 
is  no  conception  in  a man’s  mind  which  hath  not  at  first,  totally 
or  by  parts,  been  begotten  upon  the  organs  of  sense.  The  rest 
are  derived  from  that  original.”* 

We  have  here  stated,  in  the  broadest  manner,  the  principle 
of  Materialism.  It  is  in  direct  antagonism  to  the  doctrine  of 
Descartes  that  there  are  innate  ideas ; in  direct  antagonism  to 
the  old  doctrine  of  the  spirituality  of  Mind.  Theoretically  this 
principle  may  be  insignificant ; historically  it  is  important. 

Hobbes’s  language  is  plain  enough,  but  we  will  still  further 
quote  from  him,  to  obviate  any  doubt  as  to  his  meaning. 

“ According  to  the  two  principal  parts  of  man,  I divide  his 
faculties  into  two  sorts — faculties  of  the  body,  and  faculties  o^ 
the  mind. 

“ Since  the  minute  and  distinct  anatomy  of  the  powers  of  the 
body  is  nothing  necessary  to  the  present  purpose,  I will  only  sum 
them  up  in  these  three  heads, — power  nutritive,  power  genera- 
tive, and  power  motive. 

* Leviathan,  ch.  1.  In  the  following  expgsition  we  shall  sometimes  cite 
from  the  Leviathan,  and  sometimes  from  the  Human  Nature,  This  genera' 
reference  will  enable  us  to  dispense  with  iterated  loot-notes. 


m 


HOBBES. 


“ Of  the  powers  of  the  mind  there  be  two  sorts — cognitive,  im 
aginative,  or  conceptive  and  motive. 

“For  the  understanding  of  what  I mean  by  the  power  cogni- 
tive, we  must  remember  and  acknowledge  that  there  be  in  our 
minds  continually  certain  images  or  conceptions  of  the  things 
without  us.  This  imagery  and  representation  of  the  qualities  of 
the  things  without,  is  that  which  we  call  our  conception,  imagi- 
nation, ideas,  notice,  or  knowledge  of  them;  and  the  faculty,  or 
power  by  which  we  are  capable  of  such  knowledge,  is  that  I 
here  call  cognitive  power,  or  conceptive,  the  pov/er  of  knowing  or 
conceiving.” 

The  mind  is  thus  wholly  constructed  out  of  sense.  Nor  must 
we  be  deceived  by  the  words  faculty  and  power,  as  if  they  meant 
any  activity  of  the  mind — as  if  they  implied  that  the  mind  co- 
operated with  sense.  The  last  sentence  of  the  foregoing  passage 
is  sufficient  to  clear  up  this  point.  He  elsewhere  says  : — “ All 
the  qualities  called  sensible  are,  in  the  object  that  causeth  them, 
but  so  many  several  motions  of  the  matter  by  which  it  presseth 
on  our  organs  diversely.  Neither  in  us  that  are  pressed  are  they 
any  thing  else  but  divers  motions  ; for  motion  produceth  nothing 
but  motion." 

Hobbes,  therefore,  and  not  Locke,  is  the  precursor  of  that 
school  of  Psychology  which  flourished  in  the  eighteenth  century 
(principally  in  France),  and  which  made  every  operation  of  the 
mind  proceed  out  of  transformed  sensations  ; which  ended,  logi- 
cally enough,  in  saying  that  to  think  is  to  feel — penser  c'est 
sentir. 

It  is  to  Hobbes  that  the  merit  is  due  of  a discovery  which, 
though  so  familiar  to  us  now  as  to  appear  self-evident,  was  yet 
in  truth  a most  important  discovery,  and  was  adopted  by  Des- 
cartes in  his  Meditations* — it  is  that  our  sensations  do  not  cor- 
respond with  any  external  qualities;  that  what  are  called  sen- 

Descartes  may  possibly  have  discovered  it  for  himself;  but  the  priority 
of  publication  is  at  any  rate  due  to  Hobbes — a fact  first  noticed,  wo  believe, 
by  Mr.  Hallam : Literature  of  Europe,  iii.  271. 


HOBBES. 


499 


sible  qualities  are  nothing  but  modifications  of  the  sentient 
being : 

“ Because  the  image  in  vision,  consisting  of  color  and  shape, 
is  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  qualities  of  the  object  of  that 
sense;  it  is  no  hard  matter  for  a man  to  fall  into  this  opinion 
that  the  same  color  and  shape  are  the  very  qualities  themselves; 
and  for  the  same  cause  that  sound  and  noise  are  the  qualities  of 
the  bell  or  of  the  air.  And  this  opinion  hath  been  so  long  re- 
ceived that  the  contrary  must  needs  appear  a great  paradox; 
and  yet  the  introduction  of  species  visible  and  intelligible  (which 
is  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of  that  opinion)  passing  te  and 
fro  from  the  object  is  worse  than  any  paradox,  as  being  a plain 
impossibility.  I shall  therefore  endeavor  to  make  plain  these 
points  : 

“ That  the  subject  wherein  color  and  image  are  inherent,  is  not 
the  object  or  thing  seen, 

“ That  there  is  nothing  without  us  (really)  which  we  call  an 
image  or  color. 

“That  the  said  image  or  color  is  but  an  apparition  unto  us  of 
the  motion,  agitation,  or  alteration  which  the  object  worJceth  in  the 
brain,  or  spirits,  or  some  internal  substance  of  the  head. 

“ That  as  in  vision,  so  also  in  conceptions  that  arise  from  the 
other  senses,  the  subject  of  their  inference  is  not  the  object,  but 
the  sentient.” 

This  important  principle,  which  Carneades  among  the  ancients 
alone  seems  to  have  suspected,  Hobbes  has  very  clearly  and  con- 
clusively illustrated. 

Sense  furnishes  us  with  conceptions ; but  as  there  are  other 
operations  of  the  mind  besides  the  conceptive,  it  remains  to  be 
seen  how  sense  can  also  be  the  original  of  them. 

And  first,  of  Imagination.  Mr.  Hallam  has  noticed  the  acute- 
ness and  originality  which  often  characterize  Hobbes’s  remarks , 
and  he  instances  the  opening  of  the  chapter  on  Imagination  in 
the  Leviathan.  It  is  worth  quoting : — “ That  when  a thing  lies 
still,  unless  somewhat  else  stir  it,  it  will  lie  still  forever,  is  a truth 


500 


HOBBES. 


no  one  doubts  of.  But  that  wheu  a thing  is  in  motion  it  will 
eternally  be  in  motion,  unless  somewhat  else  stay  it,  though  the 
reason  be  the  same,  namely  that' nothing  can  change  itself,  is  not 
so  easily  assented  to.  For  men  measure  not  only  other  men  but 
all  other  things  by  themselves ; and,  because  they  find  them- 
selves subject  after  motion  to  pain  and  lassitude,  think  every 
thing  else  grows  weary  of  motion,  and  seeks  repose  of  its  own 
accord ; little  considering  whether  it  be  not  some  other  motion 
wherein  that  desire  of  rest,  they  find  in  themselves,  consisteth.” 
Imagination  Hobbes  defines  as  a “ conception  remaining  and  by 
little' and  little  decaying  from  and  after  the  act  of  sense.”  . . . 
“ Imagination,  therefore,  is  but  decaying  sense."  The  reader  must 
not  here  understand  by  imagination  any  thing  more  than  the  re- 
taining of  an  image  of  the  object,  after  the  object  is  removed.  It 
is  the  term  used  by  Hobbes  to  express  what  James  Mill  happily 
called  Ideation.  Sense,  Sensation ; ideas.  Ideation.  Hobbes 
says,  sense.  Sensation  ; images.  Imagination. 

The  materialism  of  Hobbes’s  theory  does  not  consist  merely  in 
his  language  (as  is  the  case  with  some  philosophers — Locke,  for 
instance) ; it  lies  at  the  very  root  of  the  theory.  Thus,  he  says, 
we  have  sensations  and  we  have  images — ideas.  Whence  those 
images  ? “ When  a body  is  once  in  motion  it  moveth,  unless 

something  hinder  it,  eternally ; and  whatsoever  hindereth  it,  can- 
not in  an  instant,  but  in  time  and  by  degrees,  quite  extinguish 
it ; and  as  we  see  in  the  water,  though  the  wind  cease,  the  waves 
give  not  over  rolling  for  a long  time  after  : so  also  it  happeneth 
in  that  motion  which  is  made  in  the  internal  parts  of  man  ; then, 
when  he  sees,  dreams,  etc.  For  after  the  object  is  removed,  or 
the  eye  shut,  we  still  retain  an  image  of  the  thing  seen,  though 
more  obscure  than  when  we  see  it.  . . . The  decay  of  sense  in 
men  waking  is  not  the  decay  of  the  motion  made  in  sense,  but 
an  obscuring  of  it,  in  such  manner  as  the  light  of  the  sun  ob- 
scureth  the  light  of  the  stars ; which  stars  do  no  less  exercise 
their  virtue,  by  which  they  are  visible,  in  the  day  than  in  the 
nighc.  But  because  amongst  many  strokes  which  our  eyes,  ears, 


HOBBES. 


501 


and  other  organs  receive  from  external  bodies,  the  predominant 
only  is  sensible ; therefore  the  light  of  the  sun  being  predomi- 
nant, we  are  not  affected  with  the  action  of  the  stars.”  This  illus- 
tration is  very  happy ; but  it  only  serves  to  bring  out  into 
stronger  relief  the  materialism  of  the  theory.  He  has  told  us 
what  Imagination  is;  let  us  now  learn  what  is  Memory.  “This 
decaying  sense,  when  we  would  express  the  thing  itself,  I mean 
fancy  itself,  we  call  imagination,  as  I have  said  before  ; but  when 
we  would  express  the  decay,  and  signify  that  the  sense  is  fading, 
old,  and  past,  it  is  called  memory.  So  that  imagination  and 
memory  are  but  one  thing,  which  for  divers  considerations  hath 
divers  names.”  Mr.  Hallam  objects  to  this,  and  says  that  it  is 
very  evident  that  imagination  and  memory  are  distinguished  by 
something  more  than  their  names.  Truly,  by  us ; but  not  by 
Hobbes  ; he  evidently  uses  the  word  imagination  in  a more  ge- 
nerical  sense  than  we  use  it : he  means  by  it  Ideation.  Thus  he 
calls  dreams  “the  imagination  of  them  that  sleep.”  It  is  that 
state  of  the  mind  which  remains  when  the  objects  which  agitated 
it  by  sensations  are  removed : the  mind  is  then  not  so  agitated, 
but  neither  is  it  calm ; and  he  compares  that  state  to  the  gentle 
rolling  of  the  waves  after  the  wind  hath  ceased. 

Let  this  be  distinctly  borne  in  mind : Hobbes  sees  nothing  in 
the  intellect  but  what  was  previously  in  the  sense.  Sensations, 
and  the  traces  which  they  leave  (i.  e.  images),  form  the  simple 
elements  of  all  knowledge  ; the  various  commixtures  of  these  ele- 
ments form  the  various  intellectual  faculties.  We  may  now  open 
at  the  third  chapter  of  the  Leviathan.  In  it  he  propounded,  as 
something  quite  simple  and  obvious,  the  very  important  law  oi 
association  of  ideas.*  He  states  it  with  great  Clearness  and 
thorough  mastery,  though  he  evidently  was  quite  unaware  of  its 
extensive  application. 

“ When  a man  thinketh,”  he  says,  “ on  any  thing  whatsoever, 
his  next  thought  after  is  not  altogether  so  casual  as  it  seems  to 

* See  Sir  W.  Hamilton’s  Dissertation'  affixed  to  Beid's  WorTcs,  p.  898,  fol 
a history  of  this  la's?  of  association. 


502 


HOBBES. 


be.  Not  every  thought  to  every  thought  succeeds  indifferently 
But  as  we  have  no  imagination  whereof  we  have  not  formerly 
had  sense  in  whole  or  in  parts,  so  we  have  no  transition  from 
one  imagination  to  another  whereof  we  never  had  the  like  before 
in  our  senses.  The  reason  whei’eof  is  this : all  fancies  (*'.  e.  im- 
ages) are  motions  within  us,  relicts  of  those  made  in  sense  ; and 
those  motions  that  immediately  succeed  one  another  in  the  sense 
continue  also  together  after  the  sense;  insomuch  as  the  former 
coming  again  to  take  place  and  be  predominant,  the  latter  fol- 
loweth  by  coherence  of  the  matter  moved,  in  such  manner  as 
water  upon  a plain  table  is  drawn  which  way  any  one  part  of  it 
is  guided  by  the  finger.” 

The  materialism  here  is  distinct  enough.  He  continues,  in 
excellent  style  : “This  train  of  thoughts,  or  mental  discourse,  is 
of  two  sorts.  The  first  is  uuguided,  without  design,  and  incon- 
stant, wherein  there  is  no  passionate  thought  to  govern  and  di- 
rect those  that  follow  to  itself,  as  the  end  and  scope  of  some 
desire  or  other  passion ; in  which  case  the  thoughts  are  said  to 
wander,  and  seem  impertinent  one  to  another,  as  in  a dream. 
Such  are  commonly  the  thoughts  of  men  that  are  not  only  with- 
out company,  but  also  without  care  of  any  thing;  though  even 
then  their  thoughts  are  as  busy  as  at  other  times,  but  without 
harmony ; as  the  sound  which  a lute  out  of  tune  would  yield  to 
any  man ; or  in  tune,  to  one  that  could  not  play.  And  yet  in 
this  wild  ranging  of  the  mind,  a man  may  ofttimes  perceive  the 
way  of  it,  and  the  dependence  of  one  thought  upon  another 
For  in  a discourse  of  our  present  civil  war,  what  would  seem  more 
impertinent  than  to  ask,  as  one  did,  what  was  the  value  of  a 
Roman  penny  ? Yet  the  coherence  to  me  was  manifest  enough. 
For  the  thought  of  the  war  introduced  the  thought  of  delivering 
up  the  King  to  his  enemies ; the  thought  of  that  brought  in  the 
thought  of  the  delivering  up  of  Christ;  and  that  again  the 
thought  of  the  thirty  pence,  which  was  the  price  of  that  treason  , 
and  thenee  easily  followed  that  malicious  question,  and  all  this 
n a moment  of  time ; for  thought  is  quick.” 


HOBBES. 


503 


“ For  thought  is  quick.”  This  is  the  simple  pregnant  com- 
ment, justly  deemed  sufBcient.  It  is  no  purpose  of  this  history 
to  dwell  upon  literary  merits ; “ but  the  style,”  as  Buffon  says, 
“ is  the  man,”*  and  occasionally  we  are  forced  to  notice  it.  The 
plain  direct  remark  with  which  Hobbes  concludes  the  above 
passage,  would,  in  the  hands  of  many  moderns,  have  run  some- 
what thus;  “How  wonderful  is  thought!  how  mighty!  how 
mysterious!  In  its  lightning  speed  it  traverses  all  space,  and 
makes  the  past  present.”  Hobbes,  with  a few  simple,  direct 
words,  produces  a greater  impression  than  would  all  the  swelling 
pomp  of  a passage  bristling  with  notes  of  exclamation.  This  is 
the  secret  of  his  style.  It  is  also  the  characteristic  of  his  specula- 
tions. Whatever  faults  they  may  have,  they  have  no  vagueness, 
no  pretended  profundity.  As  much  of  the  truth  as  he  has 
clearly  seen  he  clearly  exhibits : Avhat  he  has  not  seen  he  does 
not  pretend  to  see. 

One  important  deduction  from  his  principles  he  has  drawn ; 
“ Whatsoever  we  imagine  is  finite.  Therefore  there  is  no  idea, 
no  conception  of  any  thing  we  call  infinite.  No  man  can  have 
in  his  mind  an  image  of  infinite  magnitude,  nor  conceive  infinite 
swiftness,  infinite  time,  or  infinite  power.  When  we  say  that 
any  thing  is  infinite,  we  signify  only  that  we  are  not  able  to  con- 
ceive the  ends  and  bounds  of  the  thing  named,  having  no  con- 
ception of  the  thing,  but  of  our  own  inability.  And  therefore 
the  name  of  God  is  used  not  to  make  us  conceive  him,  for  he  is 
incomprehensible,  and  his  greatness  and  power  are  inconceivable, 
but  that  we  may  honor  him.  Also,  because  whatsoever  we  con- 

* I leave  this  passage  as  it  originally  stood,  for  the  sake  of  correcting  a 
nniversal  error.  I have  since  detected  it  to  be  an  error  by  the  simple  pro- 
cess of  reading  Buffon’s  actual  words,  which  some  French  writer  misquoted 
from  memory,  and  which  thousands  have  repeated  without  misgiving,  al- 
though the  phrase  is  an  absurdity.  The  phrase  occurs  in  Buffon's  Diaeours 
de  Reception  a V Academic,  where  speaking  of  style  as  that  alone  capable  ol 
conferring  immortality  on  works,  because  the  matter  was  prepared  by  pre- 
ceding ages,  and  must  soon  become  common  property,  whereas  style  re- 
mains a part  of  the  man  himself ; he  adds,  “ Gee  cTioses  sent  hors  de  Vhomme ; 
U style  est  de  Vhomme  meme."  There  is  immense  difference  between  saying 
le  style  e'est  Vhomme,  and  le  style  est  de  Vhomme. 


504: 


HOBBES. 


ceive  lias  been  perceived  first  by  sense,  either  all  at  once  or  by 
parts,  a man  can  have  no  thought  representing  any  thing  not  sulh 
ject  to  Sense." 

This  is  frank,  but  is  it  true  ? On  Hobbes’s  principles  it  is  irre 
sistible.  His  error  lies  in  assuming  that  all  our  thoughts  must 
be  images.  So  far  is  this  from  being  true,  that  not  even  all  our 
sensations  are  capable  of  forming  images.  What  images  are* 
given  by  the  sensations  of  heat  or  cold,  of  music  or  of  taste? 

Every  man’s  consciousness  will  assure  him  that  thoughts  are 
not  always  images.  It  will  also  assure  him  that  he  has  the  idea, 
notion,  conception,  figment  (or  whatever  name  he  may  give  the 
thought)  of  Infinity.  If  he  attempts  to  form  an  image  of  it, 
that  image  will  of  course  be  finite  : it  would  not  otherwise  be  an 
image.  But  he  can  think  of  it ; he  can  reason  of  it.  It  is  a 
thought.  It  is  in  his  mind;  though  how  it  got  there  may  be  a 
question.  The  incompleteness  of  Hobbes’s  psychology  lies  in 
the  inability  to  answer  this  question.  If  the  maxim  he  adopts 
be  true,  nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod  non  prius  fuerit  in  sensu,  the 
question  is  insoluble ; or  rather  the  question  itself  is  a practical 
refutation  of  the  maxim. 

We  insist  upon  Hobbes’s  materialism,  the  better  to  prepare  the 
reader  for  a correct  appreciation  of  Locke,  one  of  the  most 
misrepresented  of  plain  writers.  Hobbes,  in  the  sixth  chapter 
of  his  Human  Nature.,  has  very  carefully  defined  what  he  means 
by  knowledge.  “There  is  a story  somewhere,”  he  says,  “of  one 
that  pretends  to  have  been  miraculously  cured  of  blindness, 
wherewith  he  was  born,  by  St.  Alban  or  other  saints,  at  the 
town  of  St.  Albans ; and  that  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  being 
there,  to  be  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  the  miracle,  asked  the  man. 
What  color  is  this?  who,  by  answering  it  was  green,  discovered 
himself,  and  was  punished  for  a counterfeit : for  though  by  his 
sight  newly  received  he  might  distinguish  between  green  and 
red  and  all  other  colors,  as  well  as  any  that  should  interrogate 
him,  yet  he  could  not  possibly  know,  at  first  sight,  which  of  them 
was  called  green,  or  red,  or  by  any  other  name. 


HOBBES. 


505 


“ By  this  we  may  understand  there  be  two  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge, whereof  the  one  is  nothing  else  but  sense,  or  knowledge 
original,  and  remembrance  of  the  same ; the  other  is  called 
science,  or  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  propositions,  and  how  things 
are  called,  and  is  derived  from  understanding.  Both  of  these 
sorts  are  but  experience  ; the  former  being  the  experience  of  the 
effects  of  things  that  work  upon  us  from  without ; and  the  latter 
experience  men  have  from  the  proper  use  of  names  in  language : 
and  all  experience  being,  as  I have  said,  but  remembrance,  all 
knowledge  is  remembrance.” 

The  only  ambiguity  possible  in  the  above  passage  is  that  which 
might  arise  from  the  use  of  the  word  understanding.  This  he 
elsewhere  defines  as  follows : 

“ When  a man,  upon  the  hearing  of  any  speech,  hath  those 
thoughts  which  the  words  of  that  speech  in  their  connection 
were  ordained  and  constituted  to  signify,  then  he  is  said  to  un- 
derstand it;  understanding  being  nothing  else  but  conception 
formed  by  speech.” 

We  must  content  ourselves  with  merely  alluding  to  his  admi- 
rable observations  on  language,  and  with  quoting,  for  the  hun- 
dredth time,  his  weighty  aphorism,  “Words  are  wise  men’s  coun- 
ters ; they  do  but  reckon  by  them ; but  they  are  the  money  of 
fools.” 

No  attempt  is  here  made  to  do  full  justice  to  Hobbes ; no 
notice  can  be  taken  of  the  speculations  which  made  him  famous. 
Our  object  has  been  fulfilled  if  we  have  made  clear  to  the  reader 
the  position  Hobbes  occupies  in  modern  psychological  specu- 
lation. 


CHAPTER  II. 


LOCKE. 

§ I.  Life  of  Locks. 

John  Locke,  one  of  the  wisest  of  Englishmen,  was  born  at 
Urington,  in  Somersetshire,  on  the  29th  of  August,  1632.  Little 
is  known  of  his  family,  except  that  his  father  had  served  in  the 
Parliamentary  wars ; a fact  not  without  significance  in  connection 
with  the  steady  love  of  liberty  manifested  by  the  son. 

His  education  began  at  Westminster,  where  he  stayed  till  he 
was  nineteen  or  twenty.  He  was  then  sent  to  Oxford.  That 
University  was  distinguished  then,  as  it  has  ever  been,  by  its 
attachment  to  whatever  is  old  : the  Past  is  its  model ; the  Past 
has  its  affection.  That  there  is  much  good  in  this  veneration  for 
the  Past,  a few  will  gainsay.  Nevertheless,  a University  which 
piqued  itself  on  being  behind  the  age,  was  scarcely  the  fit  place 
for  an  original  thinker.  Locke  was  ill  at  ease  there.  The  phi- 
losophy upheld  there  was  Scholasticism.  On  such  food  a mind 
like  his  could  not  nourish  itself.  Like  his  great  predecessor 
Bacon,  he  imbibed  a profound  contempt  for  the  University 
studies,  and  in  after-life  regretted  that  so  much  of  his  time 
should  have  been  wasted  on  such  profitless  pursuits.  So  deeply 
convinced  was  he  of  the  vicious  method  of  college  education, 
that  he  ran  into  the  other  extreme,  and  thought  self-education 
the  best.  There  is  a mixture  of  truth  and  error  in  this  notion. 
It  is  true  that  all  great  men  have  been  mainly  self-taught;  all 
that  is  most  valuable  a man  must  learn  for  himself,  must  work 
out  for  himself.  The  error  of  Locke’s  position  is  the  assumption 
that  all  men  will  educate  themselves  if  left  to  themselves.  The 
fact  is,  the  majority  have  to  be  educated  by  force.  For  those 


IIFE  OF  LOCKE.  507 

who,  if  left  to  themselves,  would  never  educate  themselves,  col- 
cges  and  schools  are  indispensable. 

Locke’s  notion  of  an  educated  man  is  very  characteristic  of 
him.  Writing  to  Lord  Peterborough,  he  says,  “Your  Lordship 
would  have  your  son’s  tutor  a thorough  scholar,  and  I think  it 
not  much  matter  whether  he  be  any  scholar  or  no : if  he  but 
understand  Latin  well  and  have  a general  scheme  of  the  sciences, 
I think  that  enough.  But  I would  have  him  well-bred  and 
well-tempered.” 

Disgusted  with  the  disputes  which  usurped  the  title  of  Phi- 
losophy, Locke  principally  devoted  himself  to  Medicine  while  at 
Oxford.  His  proficiency  is  attested  by  two  very  difierent  per- 
sons, and  in  two  very  different  ways.  Dr.  Sydenham,  in  the 
Dedication  of  his  Observations  on  the  History  and  Cure  of 
Acute  Diseases,  boasts  of  the  approbation  bestowed  on  his 
Method  by  Mr.  John  Locke,  “ who  examined  it  to  the  bottom ; 
and  who,  if  we  consider  his  genius  and  penetrating  and  exact 
judgment,  has  scarce  any  superior,  and  few  equals  now  li\dng.” 
The  second  testimony  is  that  aflbrded  by  Lord  Shaftesbury, 
when  Locke  first  met  him.  The  Earl  was  suS'ering  from  an 
abscess  in  the  chest.  No  one  could  discover  the  nature  of  his 
disorder.  Locke  at  once  divined  it.  The  Earl  followed  his  ad- 
vice, submitted  to  an  operation,  and  was  saved.  A close  inti- 
macy sprang  up  between  them.  Locke  accompanied  him  to 
Loudon,  and  resided  principally  in  his  house. 

His  attention  was  thus  turned  to  politics.  His  visits  to  Hol- 
land delighted  him.  “ The  blessings  which  the  people  there  en- 
joyed under  a government  peculiarly  favorable  to  civil  and 
religious  liberty,  amply  compensated,  in  his  view,  for  what  their 
uninviting  territory  wanted  in  scenery  and  climate.”*  He  also 
visited  France  and  Germany,  making  the  acquaintance  of  several 
distinguished  men. 

In  16  YO  he  planned  his  Essay  concerning  Human  Understand- 


* Dugald  Stewart. 


508 


LOCKE. 


ing.  This  he  did  not  complete  till  1687.  In  1675  the  delicate 
state  of  his  health  obliged  him  to  travel,  and  he  repaired  to  the 
south  of  France,  where  he  met  Lord  Pembroke.  To  him  the 
Essay  is  dedicated.  He  returned  in  1679,  and  resumed  his 
studies  at  Oxford.  But  his  friendship  for  Shaftesbury,  and  the 
liberal  opinions  he  was  known  to  hold,  drew  upon  him  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  Court.  He  was  deprived  of  his  studentship  by 
a very  arbitrary  act.*  Nor  did  persecution  stop  there.  He  was 
soon  forced  to  quit  England,  and  find  refuge  at  the  Hague. 
There  also  the  anger  of  the  king  pursued  him,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  retreat  further  into  Holland.  It  was  there  he  pub- 
lished his  celebrated  Letter  on  Toleration. 

He  did  not  return  to  England  till  after  the  Revolution.  Then 
there  was  security  and  welcome.  He  was  pressed  to  accept  a 
high  diplomatic  office  in  Germany,  but  the  state  of  his  health 
prevented  him.  In  1690  the  first  edition  of  his  Essay  appeared. 
He  had  indeed  already  688)  published  an  abridgment  of  it  in 
Leclerc’s  Bibliotheque  Universelle.  The  success  of  this  Essay 
was  immense;  and  Warburton’s  assertion  to  the  contrary  falls 
to  the  ground  on  the  mere  statement  of  the  number  of  editions 
which  the  work  rapidly  went  through.  Six  editions  within  four- 
teen years,!  and  in  times  when  books  sold  more  slowly  than  they 
sell  now,  is  evidence  enough. 

The  publication  of  his  Essay  roused  great  opposition.  He 
soon  got  involved  in  the  discussions  with  Stillingfleet,  Bishop  of 
Worcester.  He  was  soon  after  engaged  in  the  political  discus- 
sions of  the  day,  and  published  his  Treatise  on  Government.  It 
was  about  this  time  that  he  became  acquainted  with  Sir  Isaac 


* See  Macaulay,  History  of  England,  i.  545-6. 

t The  writer  of  the  article  Locke,  in  the  Eney.  Brit.,  says  that  the  fourth 
edition  appeared  in  1700.  Victor  Cousin  repeats  the  statement,  and  adds 
that  a fifth  edition  was  preparing  when  death  overtook  tlie  author ; this 
fifth  edition  appearing  in  1705.  We  know  not  on  what  authority  these 
writers  speak ; hut  that  they  are  in  error  may  be  seen  by  turning  to  Locke’s 
Epistle  to  the  Reader,  the  last  paragraph  of  which  announces  that  the  edition 
then  issued  by  Locke  himself  is  the  sixth. 


SPIRIT  OF  LOCKE’s  WEITINGS. 


509 


Newtoa ; and  a portion  of  their  very  interesting  correspondence 
has  been  given  by  Lord  King  in  his  Life  of  Locke, 

Locke’s  health,  though  always  delicate,  had  not  been  disturbed 
by  any  imprudences,  so  that  he  reached  the  age  of  seventy-two 
— a good  ripe  age  for  one  who  had  studied  and  thought.  He 
expired  in  the  arms  of  his  friend,  Lady  Masham,  on  the  28th  of 
October,  1'704. 

§ II.  On  the  Spirit  of  Locke’s  Writings. 

It  has  for  many  years  been  the  fashion  to  decry  Locke.  In 
direct  sneers  at  his  “ superficiality  ” abound  in  the  writings  of 
those  who,  because  their  thought  is  so  muddy  that  they  cannot 
see  its  shallow  bottom,  fancy  they  are  profound.  Locke’s  “ma- 
terialism ” is  also  a favorite  subject  of  condolence  with  these 
writers ; and  they  assert  that  his  principles  “ lead  to  atheism.” 
Lead  whom  ? 

Another  mode  of  undervaluing  Locke  is  to  assert  that  he  only 
borrowed  and  popularized  the  ideas  originated  by  Hobbes.  The 
late  Mr.  Hazb^-t — an  acute  thinker,  and  a metaphysician,  but  a 
wilful  reckless  writer — deliberately  asserted  that  Locke  owed 
every  thing  to  Hobbes.  Dr.  Whewell  repeats  the  charge,  though 
in  a more  qualified  manner.  He  says,  “ Hobbes  had  • already 
promulgated  the  main  doctrines,  which  Locke  afterwards  urged, 
on  the  subject  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  our  knowledge.” 

Again,  “Locke  owed  his  authority  mainly  to  the  intellectual 
circumstances  of  the  time.  Although  a writer  of  great  merit, 
he  by  no  means  possesses  such  metaphysical  acuteness,  or  such 
philosophical  largeness  of  view,  or  such  a charm  of  writing,  as 
to  give  him  the  high  place  he  has  held  in  the  literature  of 
Europe.” 

That  Locke  did  not  borrow  his  ideas  from  Hobbes  will  be  very 
apparent  in  our  exposition  of  Locke ; but  meanwhile  we  may 
quote  the  testimony  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  one  of  the  best 
read  of  our  philosophers,  and  one  intimately  acquainted  with 
both  these  thinkers  : — 

*So 


510 


LOCKE. 


“ Locke  and  Hobbes  agree  chiefly  on  those  points  in  which 
except  the  Cartesians,  all  the  speculators  of  their  age  were  agi'eed. 
They  differ  on  the  most  momentous  questions — the  sources  of 
knowledge,  the  power  of  abstraction,  the  nature  of  the  will ; on 
the  two  last  of  which  subjects,  Locke,  by  his  very  failures  them- 
selves, evinces  a strong  repugnance  to  the  doctrine  of  Hobbes. 
They  difier  not  only  in  their  premises  and  many  of  their  con- 
clusions, but  in  their  manner  of  philosophizing  itself.  Locke 
had  no  prejudice  which  could  lead  him  to  imbibe  doctrines  from 
the  enemy  of  liberty  and  religion.  His  style,  with  all  its  faults, 
is  that  of  a man  who  thinks  for  himself ; and  an  original  style 
is  not  usually  the  vehicle  of  borrowed  opinions.”  * 

To  this  passage  we  will  add  another  from  a still  more  distin- 
guisht-d  judge : 

“Few  among  the  great  names  in  philosophy  have  met  with  a 
harder  measure  of  justice  from  the  present  generation  than 
Locke,  the  unquestioned  founder  of  the  analytic  philosophy  of 
mind,  but  whose  doctrines  were  first  caricatured,  then,  when  the 
reaction  arrived,  cast  off  by  the  prevailing  school  even  with  con- 
tumely, and  who  is  now  regarded  by  one  of  the  conflicting  parties 
in  philosophy  as  an  apostle  of  heresy  and  sophistry ; while 
among  those  who  still  adhere  to  the  standard  which  he  raised, 
there  has  been  a disposition  in  later  times  to  sacrifice  his  repu- 
tation in  favor  of  Hobbes — a great  writer  and  a great  thinker 
for  his  time,  but  inferior  to  Locke  not  only  in  sober  judgment, 
but  even  in  profundity  and  original  genius.  Locke,  the  most 
candid  of  philosophers,  and  one  whose  speculations  bear  on  every 
subject  the  strongest  mark  of  having  been  wrought  out  from 
the  materials  of  his  own  mind,  has  been  mistaken  for  an  un- 
worthy plagiarist,  while  Hobbes  has  been  extolled  as  having  an- 
ticipated many  of  his  leading  doctrines.  He  did  not  anticipate 
many  of  them,  and  the  present  is  an  instance  in  what  manner 
it  was  generally  done.  [The  writer  is  speaking  of  Locke’s  refu- 


Edinburgh  lieview  for  October,  1821,  p.  242. 


SPIRIT  OF  LOCKE’s  ‘WRITINGS. 


511 


tation  of  Essences^  They  both  rejected  the  scholastic  doctrine 
of  Essences,  but  Locke  understood  and  explained  what  these 
supposed  essences  were.  Hobbes,  instead  of  explaining  the  dis- 
tinction between  essential  and  accidental  properties,  and  between 
essential  and  accidental  propositions,  jumped  over  it,  and  gave  a 
definition  which  suits,  at  most,  only  essential  propositions,  and 
scarcely  those,  as  the  definition  of  Proposition  in  general.”* 

Dugald  Stewart  indeed  says,  “ that  it  must  appear  evident 
Locke  had  diligently  studied  the  writings  of  Hobbes  but  Sir 
J.  Mackintosh,  as  quoted  above,  has  explained  why  Locke  appears 
to  have  studied  Hobbes  ; and  Stewart  is  far  from  implying  that 
Locke  therefore  gained  his  principal  ideas  from  Hobbes.  In- 
deed he  has  an  admirable  note  in  which  he  points  out  how 
completely  Locke’s  own  was  the  important  principle  of  Re- 
Jlection.  “ This  was  not  merely  a step  beyond  Hobbes,  but  the 
correction  of  an  error  which  lies  at  the  very  root  of  Hobbes’s 
system.”! 

That  Locke  never  read  Hobbes  may  seem  incredible,  but  is, 
we  are  convinced,  the  truth.  It  is  one  among  many  examples 
of  how  few  were  the  books  he  had  read.  He  never  alludes  to 
Hobbes  in  any  way  that  can  be  interpreted  into  having  read  him. 
Twice  only,  we  believe,  does  he  allude  to  him,  and  then  so  dis- 
tantly, and  with  such  impropriety,  as  to  be  almost  convincing 
with  respect  to  his  ignorance.  The  first  time  is  in  his  Reply  to 
the  Bishop  of  Worcester,  in  which  he  absurdly  classes  Hobbes 
and  Spinoza  together.  He  says,  “I  am  not  so  well  read  in 
Hobbes  and  Spinoza  as  to  be  able  to  say  what  were  their 
opinions  on  this  matter,  but  possibly  there  be  those  who  will 
th  Ji  your  Lordship’s  authority  of  more  use  than  those  justly 
decried  writers''  The  form  of  expressioh,  “ I am  not  so  well 
read,”  etc.,  is  pbviously  equivalent  to — I have  never  read  those 
justly  decried  writers.  His  second  allusion  is  simply  this ; — 

* Mill’s  System  of  Logic,  i.  15C. 

t Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  MetapTi.  Philosophy,  p.  235  (Hamilton’a 
ed.).  The  note  is  very  long  and  curious. 


512 


LOCKE. 


“ A Hobbist  would  probably  say.”  We  cannot  at  present  lay 
our  bands  on  the  passage,  but  it  refers  to  some  moral  question. 

The  above  is  only  negative  evidence.  Something  like  positive 
evidence  however  is  the  fact  that  Hobbes’s  doctrine  of  Association 
of  Ideas — a principle  as  simple  of  apprehension  as  it  is  impor- 
tant— was  completely  unknown  to  Locke,  who,  in  the  fourth  or 
fifth  edition,  added  the  chapter  on  association  as  it  now  stands. 
Moreover,  Locke’s  statement  of  the  law  is  by  no  means  so  satis- 
factory as  that  by  Hobbes ; he  had  not  so  thoroughly  mastered 
it;  yet  had  he  read  it  in  Hobbes,  he  would  assuredly  have  im- 
proved on  it.  That  he  did  not  at  first  introduce  it  into,  his  work 
is  a strong  presumption  that  he  had  not  then  read  Hobbes,  be- 
cause the  law  is  so  simple  and  so  evident,  when  stated,  that  it 
must  produce  instantaneous  conviction. 

It  is  strange  that  any  man  should  have  read  Locke,  and  ques- 
tioned his  originality.  There  is  scarcely  a writer  we  could  name 
whose  works  bear  such  an  indisputable  impress  of  his  having 
“ raised  himself  above  the  almsbasket,  and  not  content  to  live 
lazily  on  scraps  of  begged  opinions,  set  his  own  thoughts  to  work 
to  find  and  follow  truth.”  It  is  still  more  strange  that  any  uian 
should  have  read  Locke  and  questioned  his  power.  That  patient 
sagacity  which,  above  all  things,  distinguishes  a philosopher,  is 
more  remarkable  in  Locke  than  almost  any  writer.  He  was  also 
largely  endowed  with  good  sense ; a quality,  Gibbon  remarks, 
which  is  rarer  than  genius.  In  these  two  qualities,  and  in  his 
homely  racy  masculine  style,  we  see  the  type  of  the  English 
mind,  when  at  its  best.  The  plain  directness  of  his  manner,  his 
earnestness  without  fanaticism,  his  hearty' honest  love  of  truth, 
and  the  depth  and  pertinence  of  his  thoughts,  are  qualities  which, 
though  they  do  not  dazzle  the  reader,  yet  win  his  love  and  respect. 
In  that  volume,  you  have  the  honest  thoughts  of  a great  honest 
Englishman.  It  is  the  product  of  a manly  mind : clear,  truthful, 
direct.  No  vague  formulas — no  rhetorical  flights — no  base  flat- 
tery of  base  prejudices — no  assumption  of  oracular  wisdom — no 
word -jugglery.  There  are  so  many  writers  who  cover  their 


SPIKIT  OF  LOCKe’s  WKITINGS. 


513 


vanity  with  a veil  of  words,  who  seem  profound  because  they  are 
obscure,  that  a plainness  like  Locke’s  deceives  the  careless  reader, 
who  is  led  to  suppose  that  what  is  there  so  plain  must  have  been 
obvious. 

Locke,  though  a patient,  cautious  thinker,  was  any  thing  hut  a 
timid  thinker;  and  it  does  great  honor  to  his  sagacity,  that  at 
a time  when  all  scientific  men  were  exclaiming  against  the  danger 
of  hypotheses,  believing  that  the  extravagant  errors  of  Schoolmen 
and  alchemists  were  owing  to  their  use  of  hypotheses — a time 
when  the  great  Newton  himself  could  be  led  into  the  unphilo- 
sophical  boast  hypotheses  non  Jingo,  our  wise  Locke  should 
exactly  appreciate  them  at  their  true  value.  He  says, — 

“Not  that  we  may  not,  to  explain  any  phenomena  of  nature, 
make  use  of  any  probable  hypotheses  whatsoever.  Hypotheses, 
if  they  are  well  made,  are  at  least  great  helps  to  memory,  and 
often  direct  us  to  new  discoveries.  But  we  should  not  take  them 
up  too  hastily  (which  the  mind  that  would  always  penetrate  into 
the  causes  of  things,  and  have  principles  to  rest  on,  is  very  apt 
to  do)  till  we  have  very  well  examined  particulars,  and  made 
several  experiments  in  that  thing  which  we  would  explain  by 
our  hypothesis,  and  see  whether  it  will  agree  to  them  all; 
whether  our  principles  will  carry  us  quite  through,  and  not  be  as 
inconsistent  with  one  phenomenon  of  nature  as  they  seem  to 
accommodate  and  explain  another ; and,  at  least,  that  we  take 
care  that  the  name  of  principles  deceive  us  not  nor  impose  on  us, 
by  making  us  receive  that  for  an  unquestionable  truth  which  is 
really  at  best  but  a very  doubtful  conjecture  : such  as  are  most 
(I  had  almost  said  all)  of  the  hypotheses  in  natural  philosophy.” 

Locke  did  not  seek  to  dazzle ; he  sought  Truth,  and  wished  all 
men  to  accompany  him  in  the  search.  He  would  exchange  his 
opinions  with  ease  when  he  fancied  that  he  saw  their  error.  He 
readily  retracted  ideas  which  he  had  published  in  an  immature 
form;  “thinking  himself,”  as  he  says,  “more  concerned  to  quit 
and  renounce  any  opinion  of  my  own  than  oppose  that  of  another, 
when  truth  appears  against  it.”  He  had  a just  and  incurable 


514 


LOCKE. 


suspicion  of  all  “great  volumes  swollen  with  ambiguous  words.* 
He  knew  how  much  jugglery  goes  on  with  words ; some  of  it 
conscious,  some  of  it  unconscious,  but  all  pernicious.  “Vague 
and  insignificant  forms  of  speech  and  abuse  of  language  have  for 
so  long  passed  for  mysteries  of  science  ; and  hard  and  misapplied 
words,  with  little  or  no  meaning,  have,  by  prescription,  such  a 
right  to  be  mistaken  for  deep  learning  and  height  of  speculation, 
that  it  will  not  be  easy  to  persuade  either  those  who  speak,  or 
those  who  hear  them,  that  they  are  but  the  covers  of  ignorance 
and  hindrance  of  true  knowledge.  To  break  in  upon  this  sanctu- 
ary of  vanity  and  ignorance  will  be,  I suppose,  some  service  to 
the  human  understanding.” 

Locke  had  an  analytical  mind.  He  desired  to  understand  and 
to  explain  things,  not  to  write  rhetorically  about  them.  There 
were  mysteries  enough  which  he  was  contented  to  let  alone  ; he 
knew  that  human  faculties  were  limited,  and  reverentially  sub- 
mitted to  ignorance  on  all  things  beyond  his  reach.  But  though 
he  bowed  down  before  that  which  was  essentially  mysterious,  he 
was  anxious  not  to  allow  that  which  was  essentially  cognizable 
to  be  enveloped  in  mystery.  Let  that  which  is  a mystery  remain 
undisturbed : let  that  which  is  not  necessarily  a mystery  be 
brought  into  the  light  of  day.  Know  the  limits  of  your  under- 
standing— beyond  those  limits  it  is  madness  to  attempt  to  pene- 
trate ; within  those  limits  it  is  folly  to  let  in  darkness  and 
mystery,  to  be  incessantly  wondering  and  always  assuming  that 
matters  cannot  he  so  plain  as  they  appear,  and  that  something 
lying  deeper  courts  our  attention. 

To  minds  otherwise  constituted — to  men  who  love  to  dwell  in 
the  vague  regions  of  speculation,  and  are  only  at  ease  in  an  intel- 
lectual twilight — Locke  is  naturally  a disagreeable  teacher.  He 
flatters  none  of  their  prejudices ; he  falls  in  with  none  of  their 
tendencies.  Mistaking  obscurity  for  depth,  they  accuse  him  of 
being  superficial.  The  owls  declare  the  eagle  is  blind.  Thev 
want  the  twilight ; he 

“ Wantons  in  the  smile  of  Jove.” 


locke’s  method. 


515 


They  sneer  at  his  “shallowness.”  So  frequent  are  the  sneers  and 
off-hand  charges  against  him,  that  I,  who  had  read  him  in  my 
youth  with  delight,  began  to  suspect  that  my  admiration  had 
been  rash.  The  proverb  says,  “ Throw  but  mud  enough,  some 
will  be  sure  to  stick.”  It  was  so  with  Locke.  Eeiterated  de- 
preciation had  somewhat  defaced  his  image  in  my  mind.  The 
time  came  however  when,  for  the  purposes  of  this  history,  I had 
to  read  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding  once  more,  care- 
fully, pen  in  hand.  The  image  of  John  Locke  was  again  revived 
within  me ; this  time  in  more  than  its  former  splendor.  His 
modesty,  honesty,  truthfulness,  and  directness  I had  never  doubt- 
ed ; but  now  the  vigor  and  originality  of  his  mind,  the  raciness 
of  his  colloquial  style,  the  patient  analysis  by  which  he  has  laid 
open  to  us  such  vast  tracts  of  thought,  and  above  all,  the  manli- 
ness of  his  truly  practical  understanding,  are  so  strongly  impressed 
upon  me,  that  I feel  satisfied  the  best  answer  to  his  critics  is  to 
say,  '''•Read  him''  From  communion  with  such  a mind  as  his, 
nothing  but  good  can  result.  He  suggests  as  much  as  he  teaches ; 
and  it  has  been  well  said,  “that  we  cannot  speak  of  his  Essay 
without  the  deepest  reverence ; whether  w'e  consider  the  era 
which  it  constitutes  in  philosophy,  the  intrinsic  value  (even  at 
the  present  day)  of  its  thoughts,  or  the  noble  devotion  to  truth, 
the  beautiful  and  touching  earnestness  and  simplicity  which  he 
not  only  manifests  in  himself,  but  has  the  power,  beyond  almost 
any  writer,  of  infusing  into  his  reader.” 

§ HI.  Locke’s  Method. 

“ It  may  be  said  that  Locke  created  the  science  of  Meta- 
physics,” says  D’Alembert,  “in  somewhat  the  same  way  as  New- 
ton created  Physics.  ...  To  understand  the  soul,  its  ideas  and 
its  affections,  he  did  not  study  books ; they  would  have  misdi- 
rected him ; he  was  content  to  descend  within  himself,  and  after 
having,  so  to  speak,  contemplated  himself  a long  while,  he  pre- 
sented in  his  Essay  the  mirror  in  which  he  had  seen  himself. 


516 


LOCKE, 


In  one  word,  he  reduced  Metaphysics  to  that  which  it  ought  to 
be,  viz.  the  experimental  physics  of  the  mind.”* 

This  is  great  praise,  and  from  high  authority,  but  we  suspect 
that  it  can  only  be  received  with  some  qualification.  Locke  made 
no  grand  discovery  which  changed  the  face  of  science.  He  was 
not  even  the  first  to  turn  his  glance  inwards.  Descartes  and 
Hobbes  had  been  before  him. 

Yet  Locke  had  his  Method;  a Method  peculiarly  his  own. 
Others  before  him  had  cast  a hasty  glance  inwards,  and  dogma- 
tized upon  wh,at  they  saw.  He  was  the  first  to  watch  patiently 
the  operations  of  his  mind,  that,  watching,  he  might  surprise  the 
evanescent  thoughts,  and  steal  from  them  the  secret  of  their  com- 
binations. He  is  the  founder  of  Modern  Psychology.  By  him 
the  questions  of  Philosophy  are  boldly  and  scientifically  reduced 
to  the  primary  question  of  the  limits  of  human  understanding. 
By  him  is  begun  the  history  of  the  development  and  combination 
of  our  thoughts.  Others  had  contented  themselves  with  the 
thoughts  as  they  found  them ; Locke  sedulously  inquired  into 
the  origin  of  all  our  thoughts. 

M.  Victor  Cousin,  who,  as  a rhetorician,  is  in  constant  antago- 
nism to  the  clear  and  analytical  Locke,  makes  it  an  especial 
grievance  that  Locke  and  his  school  have  considered  the  ques- 
tion respecting  the  oiigin  of  ideas  as  fundamental.  “ It  is  from 
Locke,”  he  continues,  “that  has  been  borrowed  the  custom  ot 
referring  to  savages  and  children,  upon  whom  observation  is  so 
difficult ; for  the  one  class  we  must  trust  to  the  reports  of  travel- 
lers, often  prejudiced  and  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  country 
visited ; for  the  other  class  (children),  we  are  reduced  to  very 
equivocal  signs.”f 

AVe  cannot  see  how  Locke  should  avoid  referring  to  savages 
and  children,  if  he  wanted  to  collect  facts  concerning  the  origin 
of  ideas ; it  is  a practice  inseparable  from  the  psychological 

* “ En  un  mot,  il  rdduisit  la  metaphysique  a ce  qu’elle  doit  6tre,  en  effet 
’la  physique  experimcntale  de  I’ftme.” — Discours  Prelim,  de  V Encyclopedie. 

t Hietoire  de  la  Philos.  17  lecjon. 


Locke’s  method. 


517 


Method.  Perhaps  no  source  of  error  has  been  more  abundant 
than  the  obstinacy  with  which  men  have  in  all  times  looked 
upon  their  indissoluble  associations  as  irresistible  truths — as 
primary  and  universal  truths.  A little  analysis — a little  observa- 
tion of  minds  removed  from  the  influences  which  fostered  those 
associations,  would  prove  that  those  associations  were  not  uni- 
versal truths,  but  simply  associations.  It  is  because  men  have 
analyzed  the  mind  in  its  cultivated  condition,  that  they  have 
been  led  to  false  results ; had  they  compared  their  analysis  with 
that  of  an  uncultivated  mind,  they  might  have  gained  some  in- 
sight. The  objection  against  Locke’s  practice  could  only  pro- 
ceed from  men  who  study  psychology  without  previous  acquaint- 
■ ance  with  physiology — which,  though  they  do  not  know  it,  is 
the  same  as  studying  functions  without  any  knowledge  of  the 
organs.  Locke  was  the  flrst  who  systematically  sought  in  the 
history  of  the  development  of  the  mind  for  answers  to  many  of 
the  fundamental  questions  of  psychology,  and  he  has  been  blamed 
for  this,  in  the  same  spirit  as  that  which  dictated  the  sneers  of 
John  Hunter’s  professional  contemporaries,  because  that  admira- 
ble anatomist  sought  in  comparative  anatomy  for  elucidation  of 
many  anatomical  problems.  Now-a-days  no  well-informed  student 
’s  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  Comparative  Physiology,  and  Embry- 
ology, are  our  surest  guides  in  all  biological  questions,  simply 
because  we  therein  see  the  problems  gradually  removed  from 
many  of  the  complexities  which  frustrate  our  research  in  the 
higher  and  more  completely  developed  organisms.  Locke  saw 
clearly  enough  that  the  philosophers  were  accustomed  to  con- 
sider their  minds  as  types  of  the  human  mind ; whereas  their 
minds,  being  fllled  with  false  notions  and  warped  by  prejudices, 
could  in  nowise  be  taken  as  types ; for  even  granting  that  the 
majority  of  their  notions  were  true,  yet  these  true  notions  were 
not  portions  of  the  furniture  of  universal  minds.  He  sought  for 
illustrations  from  such  minds  as  had  not  been  so  warped. 

His  object  was  “to  inquire  into  the  original,  certainty,  and 
extent  of  human  knowledge.”  He  was  led  to  this  by  a conver- 


518 


LOCKE. 


sation  with  some  friends,  in  which,  disputes  growing  warm,  “ aif 
ter  we  had  puzzled  ourselves  awhile,  without  coming  any  nearer 
a resolution  of  those  doubts  which  perplexed  us,  it  came  into  my 
thoughts  that  we  took  a wrong  course  ; and  that  before  we  set 
ourselves  upon  inquiries  of  that  nature,  it  was  necessary  to  ex- 
amine our  own  abilities,  and  see  what  objects  our  understandings 
were  or  were  not  fitted  to  deal  with." 

The  plan  he  himself  laid  down  is  as  follows  : 

“ First,  I shall  inquire  into  the  original  of  those  ideas,  notions, 
or  whatever  else  you  please  to  call  them,  which  a man  observes 
and  is  conscious  to  himself  he  has  in  his  mind  ; and  the  ways 
whereby  the  understanding  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them. 

“Secondly,  I shall  endeavor  to  show  what  knowledge  the  un- 
derstanding hath  by  those  ideas ; and  the  certainty,  evidence, 
and  extent  of  it. 

“Thirdly,  I shall  make  some  inquiry  into  the  nature  and 
grounds  of  faith  or  opinion ; whereby  I mean  that  assent  which 
we  give  to  any  proposition  as  true,  of  whose  truth  we  have  yet 
no  certain  knowledge ; and  we  shall  have  occasion  to  examine 
the  reasons  and  degrees  of  assent.” 

We  may  here  see  decisively  settled  the  question  so  often  raised 
respecting  the  importance  of  Locke’s  Inquiry  into  Innate  Ideas. 
“ For  Locke  and  his  school,”  says  M.  Cousin,  justly,  “ the  study 
of  understanding  is  the  study  of  Ideas;  hence  the  recent  cele- 
brated name  of  Ideology  for  the  designation  of  the  science  of 
mind.”  Indeed,  as  we  have  shown,  the  origin  of  Ideas  was  the 
most  important  of  all  questions;  upon  it  rested  the  whole  prob- 
lem of  Philosophy. 

According  to  the  origin  of  our  Ideas  may  we  assign  to  them 
their  validity.  If  they  are  of  human  growth  and  development, 
they  will  necessarily  partake  of  human  limitations.  As  Pascal 
well  says,  “ Si  I’homme  commenQoit  par  s’etudier  lui-meme,  il 
verroit  combien  il  est  incapable  de  passer  outre.  Comment 
pourroit-il  se  faire  qu’une  partie  connut  le  tout?” 

Locke  has  given  us  a few  indications  of  the  state  of  opinion 


locke’s  method. 


519 


respecting  Innate  Ideas,  which  it  is  worth  while  collecting.  “I 
have  been  told  that  a short  epitome  of  this  treatise,  which  was 
printed  in  168S,  was  condemned  by  some  without  reading,  be- 
cause innate  ideas  were  denied  in  it,  they  too  hastily  concluding 
that  if  innate  ideas  were  not  supposed,  there  would  be  little  left 
either  of  the  notion  or  proof  of  spirits.”  Recapitulating  the  con- 
tents of  the  chapter  devoted  to  the  refutation  of  innate  ideas,  he 
says,  “ I know  not  how  absurd  this  may  seem  to  the  masters  of 
demonstration,  and  probably  it  will  hardly  down  with  anybody 
at  Jirst  hearing^  And  elsewhere  : “ What  censure  doubting 
thus  of  innate  principles  may  deserve  from  men,  who  will  be  apt 
to  call  it  pulling  up  the  old  foundations  of  knowledge  and  cer- 
tainty, I cannot  tell ; I persuade  myself  at  least  that  the  way  I 
have  pursued,  being  conformable  to  truth,  lays  those  foundations 
surer.” 

Locke’s  Method  was  purely  psychological ; although  he  had 
been  a student  of  medicine,  he  never  indulges  in  any  physiologi- 
cal speculations,  such  as  his  successors.  Hartley  and  Darwin,  de- 
lighted in.  Ideas,  and  ideas  only,  solicited  his  analysis.  Dugald 
Stewart  has  remarked,  that  in  the  Essay  there  is  not  a single 
passage  savoring  of  the  anatomical  theatre  or  of  the  chemical 
laboratory. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  'positivism  of  Bacon ; that  of 
Locke  shall  now  speak  for  itself  in  his  own  words ; — “ If  by  this 
inquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  understanding  I can  discover  the 
powers  thereof,  how  far  they  reach,  to  what  things  they  are  in 
any  degree  proportionate,  and  where  they  fail  us,  I suppose  it 
may  be  of  use  to  prevail  with  the  busy  mind  of  man  to  be  more 
cautious  in  meddling  with  the  things  exceeding  its  comprehen- 
sion, to  stop  when  it  is  at  the  utmost  extent  of  its  tether,  and  sit 
down  in  a quiet  ignorance  of  those  things  which  upon  examination 
are  found  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  our  capacities.  We  should 
not  then  perhaps  be  so  forward,  out  of  an  affectation  of  universal 
knowledge,  to  raise  questions  and  perplex  ourselves  and  others 
about  things  to  which  our  understandings  are  not  suited,  and  of 


520 


LOCKE. 


which  we  cannot  frame  in  our  minds  any  clear  or  distinct  per- 
ceptions, or  whereof  (as  it  has  perhaps  too  often  happened)  we 
have  not  any  notions  at  all.  Men  have  reason  to  be  well  satis- 
fied with  what  God  has  thought  fit  for  them,  since  he  has  given 
them,  as  St.  Peter  says,  iravra  ‘Trpog-  xal  svdi^Siav,  whatsoever 
is  necessary  for  the  convenience  of  life  and  the  information  of 
virtue ; and  has  put  within  the  reach  of  their  discovery  the  com- . 
fortable  provision  for  this  life,  and  the  way  that  leads  to  a better. 
How  short  soever  their  knowledge  may  he  of  a universal  or  per- 
fect comprehension  of  whatever  is,  it  yet  secures  their  great  con- 
cernments, that  they  have  light  enough  to  lead  them  to  the 
knowledge  of  their  Maker  and  the  sight  of  their  own  duties. 
Men  may  find  matter  sufficient  to  busy  their  heads  and  employ 
their  hands  with  variety,  delight,  and  satisfaction,  if  they  will 
not  boldly  quarrel  with  their  own  constitutions,  and  throw  away 
the  blessings  their  hands  are  filled  with  because  they  are  not  big 
enough  to  grasp  every  thing. 

“ We  shall  not  have  much  reason  to  complain  of  the  narrowness 
of  our  minds,  if  we  will  hut  employ  them  about  what  may  he  op 
use  to  us,  for  of  that  they  are  very  capable  ; and  it  will  be  an 
unpardonable  as  well  as  childish  peevishness,  if  we  undervalue 
the  advantages  of  our  knowledge,  and  neglect  to  improve  it  to 
the  ends  for  which  it  was  given  us,  because  there  are  some  things 
set  out  of  reach  of  it.  It  will  be  no  excuse  to  an  idle  and  unto- 
ward servant  who  would  not  attend  his  business  by  candlelight, 
to  plead  that  he  had  not  broad  sunshine.  The  candle  that  is  set 
up  within  us  shines  bright  enough  for  all  our  purposes. 

“When  we  know  our  own  strength  we  shall  the  better  know 
what  to  undertake  with  hopes  of  success  and  when  we  have 
well  surveyed  the  powers  of  our  minds,  and  made  some  estimate 
what  we  may  expect  from  them,  we  shall  not  be  inclined  either 
to  sit  still,  and  not  set  our  thoughts  on  work  at  all,  despairing  of 

* “ The  real  cause  and  root  cf  almost  all  the  evils  in  science  is  this  ; that 
falsely  magnifying  and  extolling  the  powers  of  the  mind,  we  seek  not  its 
true  helps.'’ — Bacon. 


Locke’s  method. 


521 


knowing  any  thing;  or,  on  the  other  side,  question  every  thing, 
and  disclaim  all  knowledge  because  some  things  are  not  to  be 
understood.  It  is  of  great  use  to  the  sailor  to  know  the  length 
of  his  line,  though  he  cannot  with  it  fathom  all  the  depths  of  the 
ocean.  It  is  well  he  knows  that  it  is  long  enough  to  reach  the 
bottom  at  such  places  as  are  necessary  to  direct  his  voyage,  and 
caution  him  against  running  upon  any  shoals  that  may  ruin 
him.  . . . This  was  that  which  gave  the  first  rise  to  this  Essay 
concerning  the  Understanding;  for  I thought  that  the  first  step 
towards  satisfying  several  inquiries  the  mind  of  man  was  very 
apt  to  run  into,  was  to  take  a survey  of  our  own  understandings, 
and  to  see  to  what  things  they  were  adapted.  Till  that  was  done 
I suspected  we  begau  at  the  wrong  end,  and  in  vain  sought  for 
satisfaction  in  a quiet  and  sure  possession  of  truths  that  most 
concerned  us,  whilst  we  let  loose  our  thoughts  into  the  vast 
ocean  of  being ; as  if  that  boundless  extent  were  the  natural  and 
undoubted  possession  of  our  understandings,  wherein  there  is 
nothing  exempt  from  its  decisions,  or  that  escaped  its  compre- 
hension. Thus  men  extending  their  inquiries  beyond  their  ca- 
pacities, and  letting  their  thoughts  wander  into  those  depths  where 
they  can  find  no  sure  footing,  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  raise 
questions  and  multiply  disputes,  which,  never  coming  to  any  clear 
resolution,  are  proper  only  to  continue  and  increase  their  doubts, 
and  to  confirm  them  at  last  in  perfect  skepticism.” 

The  decisive  manner  in  which  Locke  separates  himself  from 
the  ontologists  is  not  only  historically  noteworthy,  but  is  also 
noticeable  as  giving  the  tone  to  his  subsequent  speculations. 
We  have  admired  the  Portico ; let  us  enter  the  Temple. 

§ IV.  The  Origin  of  our  Ideas. 

Hobbes  had  said,  with  Gassendi,  that  all  our  ideas  are  derived 
from  sensations  ; nihil  est  intellectu  quod  nonprius  fuerit  in  sensu. 
Locke,  who  is  called  a mere  popularizer  of  Hobbes,  said  that  there 
were  two  sources,  not  one  source,  and  these  two  were  Sensation 


522 


LOCKE. 


and  Reflection,  Separating  himself  decisively  from  the  up- 
holders of  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas — of  truths  independent  of 
experience, — he  declared  that  all  our  knowledge  is  founded  on 
experience,  and  from  experience  it  ultimately  derives  itself. 
Separating  himself  no  less  decisively  from  the  Gassendists,  who 
saw  no  source  of  ideas  but  Sensation,  he  declared  that  although 
Sensation  was  the  great  source  of  most  of  our  ideas,  yet  there 
was  “ another  fountain  from  which  experience  furnisheth  the 
understanding  with  ideas and  this  source,  “ though  it  he  not 
sense,  as  having  nothing  to  do  with  external  objects,  yet  it  is  very 
like  it,  and  might  properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense this 
he  calls  Reflection. 

After  Dugald  Stewart’s  ample  exposure  of  the  wide-spread 
error  that  Locke  was  the  chief  of  the  so-called  Sensational  School, 
we  need  spend  little  time  in  inquiring  whether  Locke  did  or  did 
not  teach  that  all  knowledge  was  referable  to  sensation.  The 
passages  which  contradict  the  vulgar  error  respecting  Locke’s 
doctrine  are  numerous  and  decisive.  Dugald  Stewart  has  se- 
lected several ; but  perhaps  the  one  we  have  quoted  above  will 
be  considered  sufficiently  explicit.  Reflection,  he  says,  “ though 
it  be  not  sense,”  may  yet  analogically  be  considered  as  an  inter- 
nal sense.  To  prevent  all  misconception,  however,  we  will  as  a 
decisive  example  refer  to  his  proof  of  the  existence  of  God,  which 
he  sums  up  by  saying,  “ It  is  plain  to  me  that  we  have  a more 
certain  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  a God  than  of  any  thing 
our  senses  have  not  immediately  discovered  to  us.  Nay,  I pre- 
sume I may  say  that  we  may  more  certainly  know  that  there  is 
a God,  than  that  there  is  any  thing  else  without  us.”  (Book  IV. 
ch.  X.)  Locke  made  the  senses  the  source  of  all  our  sensuous 
knowledge ; our  ideal  knowledge  (so  to  speak)  he  derived  from 
Reflection. 

Historians  have  not  accorded  due  praise  to  Locke  for  the  im- 
portant advance  he  made  towards  a solution  of  the  great  question 
on  the  origin  of  knowledge.  While  Leibnitz  has  been  lauded  to 
the  skies  for  having  expressed  Locke’s  doctrine  in  an  epigram, 


THE  ORIGIISr  OF  OUR  IDEAS. 


523 


Locke  has  not  only  been  robbed  of  bis  due,  but  has  been  sacri- 
ficed to  his  rival.  It  is  commonly  said,  “ Locke  reduced  all  our 
knowledge  to  Sensation ; Leibnitz  came  and  accepted  the  old 
adage  of  nihil  estin  intellectu  quod  nonprius  fuerit  in  sensw,  but 
be  iccepted  it  as  only  half  the  truth  ; and  therefore  added,  nisi 
ipse  intellectus."  Now,  firstly,  Locke  did  not  accept  the  adage 
as  the  whole  truth ; he  said  that  Reflection  was  a second  source 
of  ideas.  Secondly,  Dugald  Stewart  has  remarked  that  the 
addition  which  Leibnitz  made  when  he  said  there  is  nothing  in 
the  intellect  which  was  not  previously  in  the  sense,  except  the 
intellect  itself^  expresses  no  more  than  the  doctrine  of  Locke,  who 
says,  “ External  objects  furnish  the  mind  with  ideas  of  sensible 
qualities;  and  the  mind  furnishes  the  understanding  with  the 
ideas  of  its  own  operations.”  Thirdly,  although  the  phrase  is 
epigrammatic,  and  thereby  has  had  such  success  in  the  world  as 
epigrams  usually  have,  it  will  not  bear  scrutiny : few  epigrams 
will.  Except  as  a verbal  jingle,  how  trivial  is  the  expression — 
the  intellect  in  the  intellect ! Suppose  a man  to  say,  “ I have  no 
money  in  my  purse,  except  my  purse  itself,”  he  would  scarcely 
be  less  absurd.  For  when  the  Schoolmen  said,  “nothing  was  in 
the  intellect  which  was  not  previously  in  the  sense,”  they  did  not 
mean  that  the  intellect  was  the  same  as  the  sense ; they  meant 
that  the  intellect  was  furnished  with  no  ideas,  notions,  or  concep- 
tions which  had  not  been  furnished  them  by  sense ; they  meant 
that  the  senses  were  the  inlets  to  the  soul. 

Dr.  Whewell  approves  of  the  epigram ; and  alluding  to  Mr. 
Sharpe’s  objection  to  it,  viz.  that  we  cannot  say  the  intellect  is 
in  the  intellect,  he  says,  “ This  remark  is  obviously  frivolous ; foi 
the  faculties  of  the  understanding  (which  are  what  the  argument 
against  the  Sensational  School  requires  us  to  reserve)  may  be 
said  to  be  in  the  understanding  with  as  much  justice  as  we  may 
assert  that  there  are  in  it  the  impressions  derived  from  sense.” 
We  submit  that  the  “faculties”  of  the  understanding  are  not 
“ all  that  must  be  reserved  for  the  argument  against  the  Sensa- 
tional School  ” (if  the  Lockeists  be  meant,  and  to  them  only  did 


524 


LOCKE. 


Leibnitz  address  himself),  fca-  the  simple  reason  that  the  faculties 
never  were  denied.*  Opponents  have  attributed  such  a notion 
to  Locke’s  school ; no  member  of  that  school  ever  proposed  it. 
The  question  never  was,  Have  we  an  Understanding,  and  has 
that  U nderstanding  certain  Faculties  ? No  ; the  question  simply 
was — What  is  the  origin  of  our  Ideas:  are  they  partly  innate 
and  partly  acquired,  or  are  they  wholly  acquired,  and  if  so,  is 
Sense  the  sole  inlet  ? To  this  plain  question  some  replied  plainly, 
“Sense  is  the  origin  of  all  our  ideas.”  Locke  replied,  “Sense 
and  Reflection  are  the  sources  of  all  our  ideas.”  Leibnitz  re- 
plied, “.There  is  nothing  in  the  intellect  which  was  not  previously 
in  the  sense;  except  the  intellect  itself:”  which  latter  remark  is 
altogether  beside  the  question.  And  yet  this  remark  has  called 
forth  many  pages  of  laudatory  declamation;  pages  in  which 
Locke  is  cast  into  the  background,  and  charged  with  having 
overlooked  the  important  fact  that  man  has  an  intellect  as  well 
as  senses.  This  notion,  once  started,  continued  its  triumphant 
course.  Men  are  for  the  most  part  like  sheep,  who  always  follow 
the  bell-wether : what  one  boldly  asserts,  another  echoes  boldly ; 
a third  transmits  it  to  a fourth,  and  the  assertion  becomes  con- 
solidated into  a traditional  judgment.  Some  one  more  serious, 
or  more  independent  than  the  rest,  looks  into  the  mattei’,  sees 
an  error,  exposes  it ; but  tradition  rolls  on  its  unimpeded  course. 
I do  not  expect  to  shake  the  traditional  error  respecting  Locke ; 
I was  bound,  however,  to  signalize  it.  Locke  does  not  derive  all 
our  knowledge  from  sensation  ; Leibnitz  has  not  made  any  ad- 
dition by  his  too  famous  nisi  ipse  intellectus.\ 

By  Sensation,  Locke  understands  the  simple  operation  of  exter- 


* Locke  often  speaks  of  the  operations  of  the  mind  as  proceeding  from 
powers  intrinsical  and  proper  to  itself.  He  says  also  : “ Thus  the  first  ccgaacity 
of  human  intellect  is,  that  the  mind  is  fitted  to  receive  the  impressions  made 
on  it ; either  through  the  senses  by  outward  objects,  or  ly  its  own  operations 
wteen  it  reflects  on  them,'’' — Essay,  b.  ii.  c.  i.  § 24. 

t Leibnitz  himself  says,  when  making  the  distinction,  “ Cela  s’accorde 
assez  avec  votre  auteur  de  I’Essai,  que  cherche  une  bonne  partie  des  Ideeo 
dans  la  refiexion  de  I’esprit  sur  sa  propre  nature.” — Nouveaux  Essais,  ii.  c.  i 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS. 


525 


nal  objects  through  the  senses.  The  mind  is  herein  wholly  pas- 
sive. The  senses,  therefore,  may  be  said  to  furnish  the  mind 
with  one  portion  of  its  materials.  By  Eeflection  he  understands 
that  interna!  sense,  by  means  of  which  the  mind  observes  its  own 
operations.  This  furnishes  the  second  and  last  portion  of  the 
materials  out  of  which  the  mind  frames  knowledge.  “ If  it  shall 
be  demanded,”  he  says,  “ when  a man  begins  to  have  any  ideas, 
I think  the  true  answer  is,  when  he  first  has  any  sensation.  For 
since  there  appear  not  to  be  any  ideas  in  the  mind  before  the 
senses  have  conveyed  any  in,  I conceive  that  ideas  in  the  under- 
standing are  coeval  with  sensation.”  This  is  making  a decisive 
stand  against  the  upholders  of  innate  ideas ; but  it  is  a very  rude 
and  incomplete  view. 

Deeply  considered,  not  only  are  ideas  not  coeval  with  sensa- 
tions, but  sensations  themselves  are  not  coeval  with  the  opera- 
tion of  external  objects  on  our  organs.  Our  senses  have  to  be 
educated.,  i.  e.  to  be  drawn  out,  developed.  We  have  to  learn  to 
see,  to  hear,  and  to  touch.  Light  strikes  on  the  infant  retina, 
waves  of  air  pulsate  on  the  infant  tympanum  : but  these  as  yet 
produce  neither  sight  nor  hearing : they  are  only  the  prepara- 
tions for  sight  and  hearing.  Many  hundred  repetitions  are 
necessary  before  what  we  call  a sensation  [i.  e.  a distinct  feeling 
corresponding  to  that  which  the  object  will  always  produce  upon 
the  developed  sense)  can  be  produced.  Many  sensations  are 
necessary  to  produce  a perception : a perception  is  a cluster  of 
sensations  with  an  ideal  element  added.  On  the  educated 
Sense  objects  act  so  as  instantaneously  to  produce  what  we  call 
their  sensations ; on  the  uneducated  Sense  they  act  only  so  as  to 
produce  a vague  impression,  which  becomes  more  and  more  defi- 
nite by  repetition.* 

Plato  finely  compares  the  soul  to  a book,  of  which  the  senses 


* See  this  growth  of  sensation  treated  in  detail  in  Beneke’s  MeMbiien 
der  Paychologie.  See  also  the  chapters  on  Hartley  and  Darwin  fur- 
ther on. 


36 


526 


LOCKE. 


are  the  scribes*  Accepting  this  comparison,  writing  is  only  pos 
sible  after  a series  of  tentatives ; the  hand  must  practise,  before  it 
can  steady  itself  sufficiently  to  trace  letters ; so  also  must  the 
senses  learn  by  repetition  to  trace  intelligible  figures  on  the 
iahula  rasa  of  the  mind. 

Locke  continues  his  account  of  the  origin  of  all  our  knowledge 
thus:  “In  time  the  mind  comes  to  reflect  on  its  own  operations 
about  the  ideas  got  by -sensation,  and  thereby  stores  itself  with  a 
new  set  of  ideas,  which  I call  ideas  of  reflection.  These  are  the 
impressions  which  are  made  on  our  senses  by  outward  objects 
that  are  extrinsical  to  the  mind,  and  its  own  operations  proceed- 
ing from  powers  intrinsical  and  proper  to  itself;  which  when 
reflected  on  by  itself,  becoming  also  objects  of  its  contemplation, 
are,  as  I have  said,  the  original  of  all  knowledge.  Thus  the  first 
capacity  of  the  human  intellect  is,  that  the  mind  is  fitted  to  re- 
ceive the  impressions  made  on  it;  either  through  the  senses  by 
outward  objects,  or  by  its  own  operations  when  it  reflects  on 
them.  This  is  the  first  step  that  a man  makes  towards  the  dis- 
covery of  and  the  groundwork  whereon  to  build  all  those  notions 
which  ever  he  shall  have  naturally  in  this  world.  All  those 
sublime  thoughts  which  tower  above  the  clouds,  and  reach  as 
high  as  heaven  itself,  take  their  rise  and  footing  here : in  all  that 
good  extent  wherein  the  mind  wanders,  in  those  remote  specu- 
lations it  may  seem  to  be  elevated  with,  it  stirs  not  one  jot 
beyond  those  ideas  which  sense  or  reflection  have  offered  for  its 
contemplation.” 

The  close  of  this  passage  is  an  answer  to  the  ontologists ; not 
one,  however,  which  they  will  accept.  They  deny  that  sensation 
and  reflection  are  the  only  sources  of  materials.  But  we  will 
continue  to  hear  Locke:  “When  the  understanding  is  once 
stored  with  these  simple  ideas,  it  has  the  power  to  repeat,  com- 
pare, and  unite  them,  even  to  an  almost  infinite  variety,  and  so 


* Philebus,  p.  192.  Plato’s  words  are  not  given  in  the  text,  but  the 
sense  is. 


ELEMENTS  OF  IDEALISM  AND  SKEPTICISM  IN  LOCKE.  527 

can  make  at  pleasure  new  complex  ideas.  But  it  is  not  in  the 
power  of  the  most  exalted  wit,  or  enlarged  understanding,  by 
any  quickness  or  variety  of  thought,  to  invent  or  frame  one  new 
simple  idea  in  the  mind  not  taken  in  by  the  ways  aforementioned.” 

This  is  very  explicit — and,  we  believe,  very  true.  If  true, 
what  becomes  of  Philosophy  ? 

§ V.  Elements  of  Idealism  and  Skepticism  in  Locke. 

The  passage  last  quoted  naturally  leads  us  to  consider  Locke’s 
position  in  the  great  debate  carried  on  respecting  our  knowledge 
of  things  per  se. 

Can  we  know  things  as  they  are  ? Descartes  and  his  followers 
suppose  that  we  can  : their  criterion  is  the  clearness  and  distinct- 
ness of  ideas.  Locke  admirably  said,  ^‘Distinct  ideas  of  the 
several  sorts  of  bodies  that  fall  under  the  examination  of  our 
senses,  perhaps  we  may  have ; but  adequate  ideas  I suspect  we 
have  not  of  any  one  amongst  them.”  Our  ideas,  however  clear, 
are  never  adequate ; they  are  subjective.  But  Locke  only  went 
half-way  towards  the  conception  of  knowledge  as  purely  subjec- 
tive. He  did  not  think  that  all  our  ideas  were  images,  copies 
of  external  objects ; but  he  expressly  taught  that  our  ideas  of 
what  he  calls  primary  qualities^  are  resemblances  of  what  really 
exist  in  bodies ; adding,  that  “ the  ideas  produced  in  us  by  second- 
ary qualities  have  no  resemblance  of  them  at  all.  There  is 
nothing  like  our  ideas  existing  in  the  bodies  themselves.  They 
are,  in  the  bodies  we  denominate  from  them,  only  a power  to 
produce  those  sensations  in  us." 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  last  sentence  did  not  lead  him  to  the 
conclusion  that  all  the  qualities  which  we  perceive  in  bodies  are 
but  the  powers  to  produce  sensations  in  us ; and  that  it  is  we 
who  attribute  to  the  causes  of  these  sensations  a form  analogous 
to  their  effects.  He  himself  warned  us  “ that  so  we  may  not 
think  (as  perhaps  usually  is  done)  that  they  (ideas)  are  exactly 
the  images  and  resemblances  of  something  inherent  in  the  subject ; 
most  of  those  of  sensation  being  in  the  mind  no  more  the  like- 


528 


LOCKE. 


ness  of  something  existing  without  us,  than  the  names  that  stand 
for  them  are  likenesses  of  our  which  yet  upon  hearing  they 

are  'apt  to  excite  in  us.”  And  elsewhere,  “ It  being'  no  more  im 
possible  to  conceive  that  God  should  annex  such  ideas  to  such 
motions  (i.  e.  the  motions  of  objects  affecting  the  senses)  with 
which  they  have  no  similitude,  than  that  he  should  annex  the 
idea  of  pain  to  the  motion  of  a piece  of  steel  dividing  our  flesh, 
with  which  that  idea  hath  no  resemblance.” 

From  these  passages  it  will  be  seen  how  clearly  Locke  under- 
stood the  subjective  nature  of  one  portion  of  our  knowledge. 
He  did  not  carry  out  the  application  of  his  principles  to  primary 
qualities,  owing,  perhaps,  to  inveterate  association  having  too 
firmly  established  the  contrary  in  his  mind.  Every  one  is  willing 
to  admit  that  color,  light,  heat,  perfume,  taste,  etc.,  are  not  qual- 
ities in  the  bodies  which  produce  in  us  those  eflfects,  but  simply 
conditions  of  our  sensibility,  when  placed  in  certain  relations  with 
certain  bodies.  But  few  are  willing  to  admit — indeed  only  phi- 
losophers (accustomed  as  they  are  to  undo  their  constant  associ- 
ations) can  conceive  the  primary  qualities,  viz.  extension,  solidity, 
motion,  and  number,  to  he  otherwise  than  real  qualities  of  bodies 
— copies  of  which  are  impressed  upon  us  by  the  relation  in  which 
we  stand  to  the  bodies.  And  yet  these  qualities  are  no  less  sub- 
jective than  the  former.  They  do  not  belong  at  all  to  bodies, 
except  as  powers  to  produce  in  us  the  sensations.  They  are  de- 
monstrably as  much  the  eflfects  produced  in  us  by  objects,  as  the 
secondary  qualities  are ; and  the  latter  every  one  admits  to  be 
the  effects,  and  not  copies.  Wherein  lies  the  difference  ? wherein 
the  difHculty  of  conceiving  primary  qualities  not  to  belong  to 
bodies  ? In  this ; the  primary  qualities  are  the  invariable  condi- 
tions of  sensation.  The  secondary  qualities  are  the  variable  con- 
ditions. We  can  have  no  perception  of  a body  that  is  not  ex- 
tended, that  is  not  solid  (or  the  reverse),  that  is  not  simple  or 
complex  (number),  that  is  not  in  motion  or  rest.  These  are  in- 
variable conditions.  But  this  body  is  not  necessarily  of  any 
particular  color,  taste,  scent,  heat,  or  smoothness ; it  may  be  color- 


ELEMENTS  OF  IDEALISM  AND  SKEPTICISM  IN  LOCKE.  529 


.ess,  tasteless,  scentless.  These  secondary  qualities  are  all  vari- 
able.  Consequently  the  one  set,  being  invariable,  have  occasioned 
indissoluble  associations  in  our  nainds,  so  that  it  is  not  only  im- 
possible for  us  to  imagine  a body,  without  at  the  same  time  im- 
agining it  as  endowed  with  these  primary  qualities ; but  also  we 
are  irresistibly  led  to  believe  that  the  bodies  we  perceive  do  cer- 
tainly possess  those  qualities  quite  independently  of  us.  Hence 
it  has  been  said  that  the  Creator  himself  could  not  make  a body 
without  extension : for  such  a body  is  impossible.  The  phrase 
should  be,  “ such  a body  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceived  But 
our  indissoluble  associations  are  no  standards  of  reality. 

That  we  cannot  conceive  body  without  extension  is  true  ; but 
that,  because  we  cannot  conceive  it,  the  contrary  must  be  false, 
is  preposterous.  All  our  assertion  in  this  matter  can  amount  to 
is,  that  knowledge  must  be  subordinate  to  the  conditions  of  our 
nature.  These  conditions  are  not  conditions  of  things,  but  of 
our  organizations.  K we  had  been  so  constituted  as  that  all 
bodies  should  affect  us  with  a sensible  degree  of  warmth,  we 
should  have  been  irresistibly  led  to  conclude  that  warmth  was  a 
quality  inherent  in  body ; but  because  warmth  varies  with  dif- 
1 ferent  bodies  and  at  different  times,  there  is  no  indissoluble  asso- 
ciation formed.  And  so  of  the  rest. 

To  return  to  Locke  : he  has  very  well  stated  the  nature  of 
our  knowledge  of  external  things,  though  he  excepts  primary 
qualities.  “ It  is  evident,”  he  says,  “ that  the  bulk,  figure,  and 
motion  of  several  bodies  about  us,  produce  in  us  several  sen- 
sations, as  of  colors,  sounds,  tastes,  smells,  pleasure  and  pain, 
etc.  These  mechanical  affections  of  bodies  having  no  affinity  at 
all  with  those  ideas  they  produce  in  us  (there  being  no  conceiv 
able  connection  between  any  impulse  of  any  sort  of  body 
and  any  perception  of  a color  or  smell  which  we  find  in  our 
minds)  we  can  have  no  distinct  knowledge  of  such  operations  be- 
yond our  experience  ; and  can  reason  about  them  no  otherwise 
than  as  the  effects  produced  by  an  infinitely  wise  Agent,  which 
perfectly  surpass  our  comprehensions.” 


530 


LOCKE. 


He  shortly  after  says,  “ The  things  that,  as  fai  as  our  observa- 
tion reaches,  we  constantly  find  to  proceed  regularly,  we  may 
conclude  do  act  by  a law  set  them  ; hut  yet  by  a law  that  we 
know  not : whereby,  though  causes  work  steadily,  and  effects 
constantly  flow  from  them,  yet  their  connections  and  dependencies 
being  not  discoverable  in  our  ideas,  we  can  have  but  an  experimen- 
tal knowledge  of  them."  Here  we  have  Hume’s  doctrine  of 
Causation  anticipated. 

To  prove  the  subjective  nature  of  our  knowledge  is  but  one 
step  towards  the  great  question.  The  second  step,  which  it  is 
vulgarly  supposed  was  only  taken  by  Berkeley  and  Hume,  was 
also  taken  by  Locke.  Hear  him : “ Since  the  mind  in  all  its 
thoughts  and  reasonings  hath  no  other  immediate  object  but  its 
own  ideas,  which  it  alone  does  or  can  contemplate,  it  is  evident 
that  our  knowledge  is  only  conversant  about  them.  Knowledge, 
then,  seems  to  me  nothing  but  the  perception  of  the  connection 
and  agreement,  or  disagreement  and  repugnancy,  of  any  one  of 
our  ideas.” 

This  is  the  great  stronghold  of  Idealism  and  Skepticism. 
Locke  foresaw  the  use  which  would  be  made  of  it;  and  he 
stated  the  problem  with  remarkable  precision.  “ It  is  evident » 
that  the  mind  knows  not  things  immediately,  but  only  by  the 
intervention  of  ideas  it  has  of  them.  Our  knowledge  therefore 
.s  real,  only  so  far  as  there  is  a conformity  between  our  ideas  and 
the  reality  of  things.  But  what  shall  be  here  the  criterion  ? 
How  shall  the  mind,  when  it  perceives  nothing  but  its  own  ideas, 
know  that  they  agree  with  the  things  themselves  ?" 

Thus  has  he  stated  the  problem  which  was  solved  by  Idealism 
on  the  one  hand,  and  by  Skepticism  on  the  other.  Let  us  see 
how  he  will  solve  it.  There  are  two  sorts  of  ideas,  he  says,  the 
simple  and  the  complex ; or,  to  use  more  modern  language,  per- 
ceptions and  conceptions.  The  first  “must  necessarily  be  the 
product  of  things  operating  on  the  mind  in  a natural  way,  and 
producing  those  perceptions  which  by  the  wisdom  and'  will  of 
our  Maker  they  are  ordained  and  adapted  to.  From  whence  it 


ELEMENTS  OF  IDEALISM  AND  SKEPTICISM  IN  LOCKE.  531 


follows  that  simple  ideas  are  not  fictions  of  our  fancies,  but  the 
natural  and  regular  productions  of  things  without  us  really  oper- 
ating upon  us  ; and  so  carry  with  them  all  the  conforrnity  which 
is  intended,  or  which  our  state  requires : for  they  represent 
things  to  us  under  those  appearances  which  they  are  fitted  to 
•produce  in  us." 

This  leaves  the  question  of  Idealism  unanswered,  though  it 
cuts  the  Gordian  knot  of  Skepticism.  It  is  a plain  and  explicit 
avowal  of  the  subjectivity  of  our  knowledge ; of  the  impossi- 
bility of  our  ever  transcending  the  sphere  of  our  consciousness 
and  penetrating  into  the  essences  of  things.  Complex  ideas 
being  made  out  of  simple  ideas,  we  need  not  examine  their  pre- 
tensions to  infallibility.  All  human  certainty  is  therefore  only  a 
relative  certainty.  Ideas  may  be  true  for  us,  without  being  at 
all  true  when  considered  absolutely.  Such  is  Locke’s  position. 
He  stands  upon  a ledge  of  rock  between  two  yawning  abysses. 
He  will  stand  there,  and  proceed  no  further.  Why  should  he 
move  when  he  knows  that  a single  step  will  precipitate  him 
into  some  fathomless  galf  ? No ; he  is  content  with  his  ledge 
of  rock.  “ The  notice  we  have  by  our  senses,”  he  says,  “ of  the 
existence  of  things  without  us,  though  it  be  not  altogether  so 
certain  as  our  intuitive  knowledge  or  the  deductions  of  our  rea- 
son, employed  about  the  clear,  abstract  ideas  of  our  own  minds  ; 
yet  it  is  an  assurance  that  deserves  the  name  of  knowledge.  If 
we  persuade  ourselves  that  our  faculties  act  and  inform  us  right 
concerning  the  existence  of  those  objects  that  affect  them,  it 
cannot  pass  for  an  ill-grounded  confidence ; for  I think  nobody 
can  in  earnest  be  so  skeptical  as  to  be  uncertain  of  the  existence 
of  those  which  he  sees  and  feels.  At  least  he  that  can  doubt 
so  far  (whatever  he  may  have  with  his  own  thoughts)  will  never 
have  any  controversy  with  me,  since  he  can  never  be  sure  I 
say  any  thing  contrary  to  his  own  opinions.  As  to  myself,  I 
think  God  has  given  me  assurance  enough  as  to  the  existence  of 
things  without  me ; since  by  their  different  application  I can 
produce  in  myself  both  pleasure  and  pain,  which  is  one  great 


532 


LOCKE. 


concernment  of  my  present  state.  We  cannot  act  by  any  thing 
but  onr  faculties;  nor  talk  of  knowledge  but  by  the  help  of 
those  faculties  which  are  fitted  to  apprehend  even  what  knowl- 
edge is.” 

Again,  anticipating  the  objection  that  “ all  we  see,  hear,  feel, 
and  taste,  think  and  do,  during  our  whole  being,  is  but  the 
series  and  deluding  appearances  of  a long  dream,  and  therefore 
our  knowledge  of  any  thing  be  questioned  ; I must  desire  him  to 
consider  that  if  all  be  a dream,  then . he  doth  but  dream  that 
makes  the  question ; and  so  it  is  not  much  matter  that  a waking 
man  should  answer  him.  But  yet,  if  he  pleases,  he  may  dream  that 
I make  him  this  answer.  That  the  certainty  of  things  existing  in 
in  rerum  natura,  when  we  have  the  testimony  of  our  senses  for  it, 
is  not  only  as  great  as  our  frame  can  attain  to,  hut  as  our  con- 
dition needs"  This  leaves  Idealism  unanswered  ; but’  it  pro- 
nounces Skepticism  to  be  frivolous  ; “for  our  faculties,”  he  con- 
tinues, “ being  not  suited  to  the  full  extent  of  being,  nor  to  a per- 
fect, clear,  comprehensive  knowledge  of  things  free  from  all  doubt 
and  scruple,  but  to  the  preservation  of  us,  in  whom  they  are, 
and  accommodated  to  the  use  of  life ; they  serve  our  purpose 
well  enough,  if  they  will  but  give  us  certain  notice  of  those 
things  which  are  convenient  or  inconvenient  to  us.” 

That  this  is  very  good  common-sense  every  one  will  admit. 
But  it  is  no  answer  to  Skepticism.  Hume,  as  we  shall  see  here- 
after, proclaimed  the  very  same  opinions : but  the  difference  be- 
tween him  and  Locke  was,  that  he  knew  such  opinions  had  no 
influence  whatever  upon  the  philosophical  question,  but  simply 
upon  the  practical  affairs  of  life ; rvhereas  Locke,  contenting 
himself  with  the  practical,  disdained  to  answer  the  philosophical 
question.* 

We  may  sum  up  the  contents  of  this  Section  by  saying  that 
Locke  distinctly  enough  foresaw  the  Idealistic  and  Skeptical 


* Dr.  Reid  conjectures  that  “ Locke  had  a glimpse  of  the  system  which 
Berkeley  afterwards  advanced,  though  he  thought  proper  to  suppress  it 
within  his  own  breast.”  Not  to  suppress,  but  to  disdain  it. 


LOCKE  S CRITICS. 


533 


arguments  which  might  be  drawn  from  his  principles.  He  did  not 
draw  them,  because  he  thought  them  frivolous.  Aware  that  all 
human  certitude  could  only  be  relative  certitude — that  human 
knowledge  could  never  embrace  the  nature  of  things,  but  only 
the  nature  of  their  effects  on  us — he  w’as  content  with  that 
amount  of  truth,  and  “sat  down  in  quiet  ignorance  of  those 
things  which  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  capacities.”  The 
grand  aim  of  the  Sssay  was  to  prove  that  all  knowledge  is 
founded  on  experience.  That  proved,  he  was  aware  that  Expe- 
rience never  could  be  other  than  relative — it  could  only  be  our 
Experience  of  things ; and  our  Experience  could  be  no  absolute 
standard ; it  could  only  be  a standard  for  us. 

§ VI.  Locke’s  Critics. 

We  cannot  leave  the  great  Englishman  without  adverting  to 
the  tone  adopted  by  many  of  his  critics.  This  tone  has  been 
any  thing  but  considerate.  The  sincerest  and  least  dogunatic  of 
thinkers  has,  for  the  most  part,  met  with  insincere  and  shallow- 
criticism. 

That  men  should  misrepresent  Spinoza,  Hobbes,  or  Hume,  is 
intelligible  enough ; men  are  frightened,  and  in  their  terror  ex- 
aggerate and  distort  what  they  see.  That  they  should  misrep- 
resent Kant,  Fichte,  or  Hegel,  is  also  intelligible ; the  remote- 
ness of  the  speculations,  and  the  difficulty  of  the  language,  are 
sufficient  excuses.  But  that  they  should  misrepresent  Locke  is 
wholly  inexcusable.  He  was  neither  an  audacious  speculator, 
nor  a cloudy  writer.  His  fault  was  that  he  spoke  plainly  and 
honestly.  He  sought  the  truth  ; he  did  not  wish  to  mystify  any 
one.  He  endeavored  to  explain  the  Chemistry  of  the  Mind  (if 
the  metaphor  be  permissible),  renouncing  the  vague,  futile 
dreams  of  Alchemy.  All  those  men  who  still  seek  to  penetrate 
impenetrable  mysteries,  and  refuse  to  acknowledge  the  limits  of 
man’s  intelligence,  treat  Locke  with  the  same  superb  disdain  as 
the  ambitious  alchemists  treated  the  early  chemists.  The  tone 
.n  which  most  modern  Frenchmen  and  Germans  speak  of  Locke 


534 


LOCKE. 


is  painful ; the  tone  in  which  many  Englishmen  speak  of  him  is 
disgraceful.  To  point  out  any  error  is  honorable ; hut  to  ac- 
cuse him  of  errors  which  are  not  to  be  found  in  his  work,  to 
interpret  his  language  according  to  your  views,  and  then  accuse 
him  of  inconsistency  and  superficiality ; to  speak  of  him  with 
superciliousness,  as  if  he  were  some  respectable  but  short-sighted 
gentleman  dabbling  with  philosophy,  and  not  one  of  the  great 
benefactors  of  mankind,  deserves  the  severest  reprobation.* 

There  is  no  excuse  for  not  understanding  Locke.  If  his  lan- 
guage be  occasionally  loose  and  wavering,  his  meaning  is  always 
to  be  gathered  from  the  context.  He  had  not  the  lucidity  of 
Descartes  or  Hobbes ; but  he  was  most  anxious  to  make  himself 
intelligible,  and  to  this  end  he  varied  his  expressions,  and  stated 
his  meaning  in  a variety  of  forms.  He  must  not  be  taken  liter- 
ally. No  single  passage  is  to  be  relied  on,  unless  it  be  also 
borne  out  by  the  whole  tenor  of  his  speculations.  Any  person 
merely  “ dipping  into  ” the  Essay,  will  find  passages  which  seem 
very  contradictory ; any  person  carefully  reading  it  through  will 
find  all  clear  and  coherent. 

The  most  considerable  of  Locke’s  modern  critics  is  Victor 
Cousin.  He  has  undertaken  an  examination  and  refutation  of 
all  Locke’s  important  positions.  The  eminence  of  his  name  and 
the  popular  style  of  his  lectures  have  given  great  importance  to 
his  criticism  ; but  if  we  are  to  speak  out  our  opinion  frankly,  we 
must  characterize  this  criticism  as  very  unfair,  and  extremely 
shallow.  We  cannot  here  examine  his  examination : a volume 
would  not  suffice  to  expose  all  his  errors.  Let  one  example  of 
his  unfairness,  and  one  of  his  shallowness,  sufiice. 

Speaking  of  the  principle  of  reflection,  he  says  : “ In  the  first 
place,  remark  that  Locke  here  evidently  confounds  reflection 
with  consciousness.  Reflection,  strictly  speaking,  is  doubtless  a 
faculty  analogous  to  consciousness,  but  distinct  from  it,  and  which 


* On  this  point,  consult  Dr.  Vaughan’s  vigorous  defence  of  Locke  against 
Ms  critics  in  the  Essays  on  History,  Philosophy,  etc. 


Locke’s  critics. 


635 


more  particularly  belongs  to  philosophers,  whereas  consciousness 
belongs  to  every  man.” 

We  answer,  that  in  the  first  place,  so  far  from  its  being  evi- 
dent that  Locke  confounds  reflection  with  consciousness,  his 
whole  Essay  proves  the  contrary.  In  the  second  place,  M. 
Cousin,  using  the  word  reflection  in  a peculiar  sense  (viz.  as  tan- 
tamount to  speculation),  forces  that  sense  upon  Locke,  and  thus 
makes  the  contradiction  ! If  M.  Cousin  had  interpreted  Locke 
fairly,  he  could  never  have  thus  “ caught  him  on  the  hip.” 

It  is  quite  true  that  in  the  passage  quoted  by  M.  Cousin,  the 
faculty  of  reflection  is  limited  to  the  operations  of  the  mind ; but, 
as  we  said,  to  pin  Locke  down  to  any  one  passage  is  unfair ; and 
his  whole  Essay  proves,  in  spite  of  some  ill-worded  definitions, 
that  by  reflection  he  meant  very  much  what  is  usually  meant  by 
it,  viz.  the  activity  of  the  mind  in  combining  the  materials  it  re- 
ceives through  sense,  and  becoming  thus  a source  of  ideas. 

This  leads  us  to  the  second  example.  M.  Cousin  wishing  to 
prove,  against  Locke,  that  we  have  ideas  from  some  other  source 
besides  sensation  and  reflection,  instances  the  idea  of  space,  and 
examines  how  it  was  possible  to  obtain  that  idea  through  sensa- 
tion and  reflection.  That  the  idea  of  pure  space  could  not  have 
been  obtained  through  the  senses  he  seems  to  think  is  satisfac- 
torily proved  by  proving  that  the  idea  has  nothing  sensuous  in 
it;  that  it  could  not  have  been  obtained  through  reflection, 
because  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  operations  of  our  under- 
standing, is  equally  evident  to  him.  Hence,  as  both  sources  fail, 
he  pronounces  Locke’s  account  of  the  origin  of  our  knowledge 
“ incomplete  and  vicious.” 

This  argument,  which  extends  to  several  pages,  is  deemed  by 
M.  Cousin  triumphant,  Locke  indeed  says  that  “ we  get  the  idea 
of  space  both  by  our  sight  and  touch.”  Any  honest  inquirer 
would  never  quibble  upon  this — would  never  suppose  Locke 
meant  to  say  that  space  is  a sensation.  He  would  understand  that 
Locke  meant  to  say.  “ the  idea  of  space  is  an  abstraction : the 
primary  matei’ials  are  obtained  through  our  touch  and  sight.’’ 


536 


LOCKE. 


Locke  did  not  anticipate  any  quibbling  objection,  so  did  not 
guard  against  it ; but  in  bis  explanation  of  our  idea  of  substance 
he  has  given  an  analogous  case ; although  his  antagonists  have 
also  frequently  objected  that  the  idea  of  substance  never  could 
have  been  obtained  through  sense.  It  has  been  thought  an  irre* 
sistible  argument  against  Locke’s  theory : the  very  fact  that  we 
have  an  idea  of  substance  is  supposed  to  be  sufficient  proof  of- 
some  other  source  of  knowledge  than  sensation  and  reflection. 
This  is  an  example  of  how  carelessly  Locke  has  been  read.  He 
expressly  tells  us,  in  more  places  than  one,  that  the  idea  of  sub- 
stance (and  by  idea  he  does  not  here  mean  image,  but  a thought) 
is  an  inference  grounded  upon  our  experience  of  external  things. 
True  it  is  that  we  perceive  nothing  but  phenomena,  but  our 
minds  are  so  constituted  that  we  are  forced  to  suppose  these 
jrhenomena  have  substances  lying  underneath  them. 

“ If  any  one  will  examine  himself,”  he  says,  “ concerning  his 
notion  of  pure  substance  in  general,  he  will  find  he  has  no  other 
idea  of  it  at  all,  but  only  a supposition  of  he  knows  not  what 
support  of  such  qualities  which  are  capable  of  producing  simple 
ideas  in  us,  which  qualities  are  commonly  called  accidents.  If 
any  one  should  be  asked  what  is  the  subject  wherein  color  or 
Weight  inheres,  he  would  have  nothing  to  say  but  the  solid  ex- 
tended parts ; and  if  he  were  demanded  what  is  it  that  solidity 
and  extension  inhere  in,  he  would  not  be  in  a much  better  case 
than  the  Indian  who,  saying  that  the  world  was  supported  by  a 
great  elephant,  was  asked  what  the  elephant  rested  on,  to  which 
his  answer  was,  A great  tortoise;  but  being  again  pressed  to 
know  what  gave  support  to  the  great  broad-backed  tortoise,  re- 
plied, Something,  he  knew  not  what.” 

The  same  couise  of  argument  will  apply  to  space.  Space  is 
an  idea  suggested  by  place,  which  is  surely  one  derived  fi  om  the 
senses ; but  M.  Cousin  declaims  away  at  a great  rate,  and  brings 
forward  many  arguments  and  illustrations,  all  utterly  trivial,  to 
show  that  the  idea  of  space  could  never  have  been  a sensation. 
A little  more  attention  in  reading  the  author  he  attacks  would 


LOCKE  S CRITICS. 


537 


have  saved  him  all  this  trouble.  Locte  never  for  an  instant 
supposed  that  the  idea  of  space  could  have  been  a sensation  : on 
the  fact  that  it  could  not,  he  grounds  his  position  that  the  idea 
is  vague,  and  is  a mere  “ supposition.” 

The  German  critics  we  may  pass  over  in  silence.  The  whole 
tenor  of  their  speculations  unfits  them  for  judging  Locke.  But 
let  us  hear  an  Englishman,  who  is  also  an  historian  : — “ We  need 
not  spend  much  time  in  pointing  out  the  inconsistencies  into 
which  Locke  fell,”  says  Dr.  Whewell,  “ as  all  must  fall  into  in- 
consistencies who  recognize  no  source  of  knowledge  except  the 
senses.”  Let  us  remai'k,  in  the  first  place,  that  it  is  surely  a 
questionable  procedure  thus  to  pass  over  so  great  a man  as 
Locke,  whose  influence  has  been  so  general  and  lasting,  and 
whose  “inconsistencies”  it  behooved  Dr.  Whewell,  more  than 
most  men,  to  refute,  inasmuch  as  Locke’s  principles  refute  his 
whole  philosophy.  Secondly,  it  is  a misrepresentation  to  assert 
Locke’s  having  recognized  “ no  source  of  knowledge  except  the 
senses.”  On  reconsideration  he  must  admit  that  Locke  did 
recognize  another  source.  “ Thus  he  maintains,”  continues  Dr. 
Whewell,  “ that  our  idea  of  space  is  derived  from  the  senses  of 
sight  and  touch — our  idea  of  solidity  from  the  touch  alone. 
Our  notion  of  substance  is  an  unknown  support  of  unknown 
qualities,  and  is  illustrated  by  the  Indian  fable  of  the  tortoise 
which  supports  the  elephant  which  supports  the  world.” 

Space  we  have  already  considered  in  answering  M.  Cousin. 
As  to  solidity,  if  the  idea  be  not  derived  from  the  sensation,  from 
whence  is  it  derived  ? And  as  to  substance,  we  must  here  again 
notice  a misrepresentation  of  Locke,  who  does  not  define  it  as 
“ an  unknown  support  of  unknown  qualities,”  but  as  an  unknown 
support  of  known  qualities ; from  our  knowledge  of  the  qualities 
we  infer  the  existence  of  some  substratum  in  which  they  inhere. 
We  are,  with  respect  to  substance,  somewhat  in  the  condition  of 
a blind  man,  who,  whenever  he  moved  in  a certain  direction, 
should  receive  a blow  from  some  revolving  wheel.  Although 
unable  to  see  the  wheel,  and  so  understand  the  cause  of  the  pain 


538 


LOCKE. 


he  received,  he  ■would  not  hesitate  to  attribute  that  cause  to 
something  without  him.  All  he  could  ever  know,  unassisted, 
would  be  the  fact  of  his  being  struck  when  he  moved  in  a cer- 
tain direction ; he  could  have  no  other  knowledge  of  the  wheel, 
yet  he  would  be  quite  certain  that  there  was  something  besides  his 
pain,  and  that  unknown  something  would  stand  to  him  in  a rela- 
tion somewhat  similar  to  that  in  which  the  unknown  support 
of  known  accidents  of  bodies  stands  to  us.  This  is  Locke’s 
meaning. 

“Our  notion  of  power  or  cause,”  continues  the  historian,  “is 
in  like  manner  got  from  the  senses ; and  yet,  though  these  ideas 
are  thus  mere  fragments  of  our  experience,  Locke  does  not'  hesi- 
tate to  ascribe  to  them  necessity  and  universality  when  they 
occur  in  propositions.  Thus  he  maintains  the  necessary  truth  of 
geometrical  properties ; he  asserts  that  the  resistance  arising  from 
solidity  is  absolutely  insurmountable ; he  conceives  that  nothing 
short  of  Omnipotence  can  annihilate  a particle  of  matter ; and 
he  has  no  misgivings  in  arguing  upon  the  axiom  that  every 
thing  must  have  a cause.  He  does  not  perceive  that  upon  his 
own  account  of  the  origin  of  our  knowledge,  we  can  have  no 
right  to  make  any  of  these  assertions.  If  our  knowledge  of  the 
truths  which  concern  the  external  world  were  wholly  derived 
from  experience,  all  that  we  could  venture  to  say  would  be,  that 
geometrical  properties  of  figures  are  true  as  far  as  we  have  tried 
them;  that  we  have  seen  no  example  of  a solid  body  being  re- 
duced to  occupy  less  space  by  pressure,  or  of  a material  substance 
annihilated  by  natural  means;  and  that,  wherever  we  have  exam- 
hied^  we  have  found  that  every  change  has  had  a cause.” 

This  is  only  one  among  many  instances  of  Dr.  Whewell’s  want 
of  accurate  interpretation  of  Locke.  The  fallacy  on  which  his 
argument  rests,  we  shall  examine  at  some  length  when  we  come 
to  treat  of  Kant.  Meanwhile  let  the  following  passage  prove 
that  he  has  misconceived  Locke,  who  certainly  did  not  hesitate 
to  ascribe  necessity  and  universality  to  certain  ideas  when  they 
“occur  in  propositions,”  but  who  very  clearly  explained  the  na- 


Locke’s  critics. 


539 


ture  of  this  necessity  in  a masterly  passage:  ‘‘There  is  one  sort 
of  propositions  concerning  the  existence  of  any  thing  answerable 
to  such  an  idea ; as  having  the  idea  of  an  elephant,  phoenix,  mo- 
tion, or  angle,  in  my  mind,  the  first  and  natural  inquiry  is, 
whether  such  a thing  does  anywhere  exist.  And  this  knowledge 
is  only  of  particulars.  No  existence  of  any  thing  without  us, 
except  God,  can  certainly  he  known  further  than  our  senses  in- 
form us. 

“ There  is  another  sort  of  propositions,  wherein  is  expressed 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  abstract  ideas  and  their 
dependence  on  one  another.  Such  propositions  may  be  universal 
and  certain.  So,  having  the  idea  of  God  and  of  myself,  of  fear 
and  obedience,  I cannot  but  be  sure  that  God  is  to  be  feared  and 
obeyed  by  me : and  this  proposition  will  be  certain  concerning 
man  in  general,  if  I have  made  an  abstract  idea  of  such  species 
whereof  I am  one  particular.  But  yet  this  proposition,  how  cer- 
tain soever,  that  men  ought  to  fear  and  obey  God,  proves  not  to 
me  the  existence  of  men  in  the  world,  but  will  be  true  of  all 
such  creatures  wherever  they  do  exist : which  certainty  of  such 
general  propositions  depends  on  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
to  be  discovered  in  those  abstract  ideas.  In  the  former  case  our 
knowledge  is  the  consequence  of  the  existence  of  things  pro- 
ducing ideas  in  our  minds  by  our  senses ; in  the  latter,  knowl- 
edge is  the  consequence  of  the  ideas  (be  they  what  they  will) 
that  are  in  our  minds  producing  their  general  certain  proposi- 
tions. 

“ Many  of  these  are  called  ceternoe  veritates  ; and  all  of  them 
indeed  are  so ; not  from  being  written  in  the  minds  of  all  men, 
or  that  they  were  any  of  them  propositions  in  any  one’s  mind 
till  he,  having  got  the  abstract  ideas,  joined  or  separated  them 
by  affirmation  or  negation.  But  wheresoever  we  can  suppose 
such  a creature  as  man  is,  endowed  with  such  faculties,  and 
thereby  furnished  with  such  ideas  as  we  have,  we  must  conclude 
he  must  needs,  when  he  applies  his  thoughts  to  the  consideration 
of  his  ideas,  know  the  truth  of  certain  propositions  that  will  arise 


540 


LOCKE. 


from  the  agreement  or  disagreement  which  he  will  porcei\'e  in 
his  own  ideas.  Such  propositions  therefore  are  called  eternal 
truths,  not  because  they  are  eternal  propositions  actually  formed 
and  antecedent  to  the  understanding  that  makes  them  ; nor  be- 
cause they  are  imprinted  on  the  mind  from  any  patterns  that 
are  anywhere  of  them  out  of  the  mind  and  existed  before  ; but 
because  being  once  made  about  abstract  ideas  so  as  to  be  true, 
they  will,  whenever  they  can  be  supposed  to  be  made  again  at 
any  time  by  a mind  having  those  ideas,  always  actually  be  true.”* 
This  passage  is  sufficient  to  exonerate  him  from  the  charge  of 
inconsistency ; sufficient  also,  we  believe,  to  show  the  error  of 
Dr.  Whewell’s  own  conception  of  the  necessity  of  certain  truths. 

The  foregoing  are  samples  of  the  style  in  which  the  great  mas- 
ter of  Psychology  is  spoken  of  by  his  most  modern  critics.  Let 
them  be  sufficient  warning  to  the  reader  of  what  he  is  to  expect 
from  the  partisans  of  the  reaction  against  Locke,  and  his  follow- 
ers ; and  stimulate  him  to  the  careful  study  of  that  author  who 
“ professes  no  more  than  to  lay  down,  candidly  and  freely,  his 
own  conjectures  concerning  a subject  lying  somewhat  in  the 
dark,  without  any  other  design  than  an  unbiased  inquiry  after 
truth.” 


* Book  iv.  ch.  xi.  §§  13, 14. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LEIBI^ITZ. 

Leibnitz  was  the  first  and  last  of  Locke’s  great  critics.  He 
bad  studied  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding^  though  he 
could  not  accept  its  principles.  His  arguments  have  formed  the 
staple  of  objection  against  Locke  ; and  from  him  they  come  with 
peculiar  force,  because  they  are  parts  of  his  system. 

Leibnitz  has  a great  reputation  in  philosophy  and  mathemat- 
ics ; but  the  nature  of  this  work  forbids  our  entering  into  any 
detailed  examination  of  his  claims,  inasmuch  as  he  introduced  no 
new  ideas,  no  new  extension  of  old  methods.  All  that  can  here 
be  done  is  to  indicate  the  line  of  opposition  which  he  took  with 
respect  to  Locke’s  theory  of  the  origin  of  Knowledge. 

At  first  he  answered  Locke  in  a few  paragraphs  of  a somewhat 
supercilious  tone.  He  evidently  looked  upon  the  Essay  as  not 
destined  to  achieve  any  influential  reputation.*  This  opinion  he 
lived  to  alter ; and  in  his  Nouveaux  Essais  sur  VEntendement 
Humain,  he  brought  all  his  forces  to  bear  upon  the  subject ; he 
grappled  with  the  Essay,  and  disputed  tire  ground  with  it  inch 
by  inch.  This  remarkable  work  was  not  published  till  many 
years  after  his  death,  and  is  not  included  in  M.  Dutens’  edition. 
Dugald  Stewart  was  not  aware  of  its  existence ; and  this  fact  will 
explain  a passage  in  his  Dissertation,  where  he  says  that  Leib- 
nitz always  speaks  coldly  of  Locke’s  Essay.  Leibnitz  does  so  in 
his  earlier  works ; but  in  the  Hew  Essays  he  treats  his  great  ad- 
versary with  due  respect ; and  in  the  Preface,  speaks  of  him  with 
eulogy.  “The  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,  writ- 

* See  Reflexions  sur  VEssai  de  M.  Locke,  in  the  Eecueil  of  Desmaizeaux, 
vol.  ii. 


37 


542 


LEIBNITZ. 


ten  by  an  illustrious  Euglisbman,  being  one  of  the  finest  and 
most  esteemed  works  of  our  time,  I have  resolved  to  make  some 
comments  on  it.  . . . Thus  I shall  procure  a favorable  introduc- 
tion for  my  thoughts  by  jdacing  them  in  such  good  company. 

. . It  is  true  that  I am  often  of  a difierent  opinion  ; but  so  far 
from  detracting  on  that  account  from  the  merit  of  this  celebrated 
writer,  that  I do  him  justice  in  making  known  in  what  and 
wherefore  I differ  from  nim,  when  I judge  it  necessary  to  pre- 
vent his  authority  from  prevailing  over  reason  on  some  important 
points.  In  fact,  although  the  author  of  the  Essay  says  a thou- 
sand things  which  I must  applaud,  yet  our  systems  greatly  differ. 
His  has  greater  affinity  to  that  of  Aristotle, — mine,  to  that  of 
Plato.”  This  is  the  spirit  in  which  the  Homeric  heroes  regard 
their  adversaries ; an  interchange  of  admiration  for  each  other’s 
prowess  does  not  deaden  one  of  their  blows,  but  it  makes  the 
combat  more  dignified. 

Leibnitz  belonged  to  the  Cartesians ; but  he  also  mingled  with 
the  doctrines  of  Descartes  certain  ideas  which  he  had  gathered 
from  his  commerce  with  antiquity.  Plato,  and  Democritus  espe- 
cially, influenced  him.  To  a mind  thus  furnished,  the  doctrines 
of  Locke  must  needs  have  been  unwelcome ; indeed  they  could 
not  be  e.vpected  to  gain  admission.  Moreover,  as  F.  Schlegel 
well  observed,  every  man  is  born  either  a Platonist  or  an  Aris- 
totelian.* Leibnitz  and  Locke  were  examples  of  this  antago- 
nism : “ Our  differences,”  says  Leibnitz,  “ are  important.  The 
question  between  us  is  whether  the  soul  in  itself  is  entirely  empty, 
like  tablets  upon  which  nothing  has  been  written  {tabula  rasa), 
according  to  Aristotle  and  the  author  of  the  Essay ; and  whether 
all  that  is  there  traced  comes  wholly  from  the  senses  and  experi- 
ence ; or  whether  the  soul  originally  contains  the  principles  of 
several  notions  and  doctrines,  which  the  external  objects  only 
awaken  on  occasions,  as  I believe  with  Plato.” 


♦ Coleridge  used  to  pass  oflf  this  aphorism  as  his  own.  It  is  to  be  found 
however  in  Schlegel’s  Geschichte  der  Literatur. 


LEIBNITZ. 


543 


The  nature  of  the  problem  is  well  stated  here ; and  Leibnitz 
tides  with  Plato  in  his  solution  of  it.  The  main  arguments  by 
which  he  supports  his  view  are  those  so  often  since  repeated  of 
the  Universality  and  Necessity  of  certain  truths,  and  of  the  in- 
capacity of  experience  to  furnish  us  with  any  thing  beyond  a 
knowledge  of  individual  cases.  “ For  if  any  event  can  be  foreseen 
before  it  has  been  tried,  it  is  manifest  that  we  contribute  some- 
thing for  our  own  parts.”  Ergo,  mere  experience,  it  is  argued, 
does  not  constitute  all  our  knowledge.  “ The  senses,  although 
necessary  for  all  actual  knowledge,  are  not  sufficient  to  give  us  all 
of  it ; since  the  senses  never  can  give  but  examples,  that  is  to  say 
particular  or  individual  truths.  But  all  the  examples  which  con- 
firm a general  truth,  how'ever  numerous,  do  not  suffice  to  establish 
the  universal  necessity  of  that  truth ; for  it  does  not  follow  that 
that  which  has  once  occurred  will  always  occur  in  the  same  way.” 
Leibnitz  continues : “ Whence  it  appears  that  necessary  truths, 
such  as  we  find  in  mathematics,  and  particularly  in  arithmetic 
and  geometry,  must  have  principles  of  which  the  proof  does  not 
depend  upon  examples,  nor  consequently  upon  the  senses,  al- 
though without  the  senses  one  would  never  have  thought  of 
them.  So  also  logic,  metaphysics,  and  morals  are  full  of  such 
truths,  and  consequently  their  proofs  can  only  come  from  those 
internal  principles  which  are  called  innate^ 

Locke  would  perfectly  have  agreed  with  these  premises,  but 
the  conclusion  he  would  rightly  have  rejected.  That  the  senses 
alone  could  not  furnish  us  with  any  general  truth,  he  taught  as 
expressly  as  Leibnitz  did ; but  this  in  no  way  affects  his  system, 
for  he  did  not  build  his  system  upon  the  senses  alone. 

Leibnitz  however  seems  to  have  been  misled  by  Locke’s  lan- 
guage in  the  first  definition  of  Reflection  ; for  he  says,  “ Perhaps 
the  opinions  of  our  able  author  are  not  so  far  from  mine  as 
they  appear  to  be.  For  after  having  employed  the  whole  of  his 
first  book  against  innate  knowledge  taken  in  a certain  sense,  he 
acknowledges  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  that  there  are 
ideas  which  do  not  originate  from  the  senses,  but  arise  from  Re- 


544 


LEIBNITZ. 


flection.  Now  reflection  is  nothing  but  attention  to  that  which 
passes  within  us ; and  the  senses  do  not  convey  to  us  what  we 
already  possess  within  ourselves.  Can  it  then  be  denied  that 
there  is  much  innate  in  the  mind  ?” 

The  passage  in  italics  is  a curious  instance  of  how  the  mind, 
preoccupied  with  its  own  opinions,  sees  them  reflected  in  the 
expressions  of  others.  Leibnitz  here  assumes  the  very  point  at 
issue  ; assumes  that  the  mind  has  innate  ideas  which  the  senses 
cannot  convey  to  it ; and  this  assumption  he  supposes  to  be 
contained  in  Locke’s  words.  Locke  taught  precisely  the  con- 
trary. “The  mind  is  itself  innate,”  continues  Leibnitz — (to 
which  we  reiterate  our  objection:  innate  mwhat?  In  itself? 
or  in  us  ? To  say  that  it  is  innate  in  itself  is  a quibble ; that  it 
is  innate  in  us  is  a displacement  of  the  question  : no  one  ever 
doubted  that  the  mind  of  man  was  born  in  man — born  with 
man ; the  question  was.  Are  there  any  ideas  born  with  the 
mind,  or  are  all  ideas  acquired  hy  the  mind  ?)  “ The  mind  is 

itself  innate,  and  there  are  included  in  it  substance,  duration, 
change,  action,  perception,  pleasure,  and  a thousand  other  ob- 
jects of  our  intellectual  ideas.  ...  I have  used  the  comparison 
of  a block  of  marble  which  has  certain  veins  in  it,  rather  than 
a plain  piece  of  marble  such  as  the  philosophers  call  tabula  rasa  ; 
because  if  the  soul  resembled  tablets  unwritten  on,  truths  would 
be  in  us  like  the  figure  of  Hercules  in  the  block  of  marble, 
when  that  marble  may  receive  indifferently  one  figure  or  another. 
But  if  there  are  veins  in  the  marble  which  mark  the  figure  of 
Hercules  rather  than  any  other  figure,  that  marble  would  be 
more  determinate,  and  the  figure  of  Hercules  would  in  some 
way  be  innate,  although  labor  would  be  necessary  to  discover 
the  veins,  and  to  free  them  from  their  envelopment  of  marble. 
Thus  are  ideas  and  truths  innate  in  us.” 

This  is  an  ingenious  statement  of  the  theory : unfortunately 
for  it,  the  very  existence  of  these  veins  in  the  marble  is  an  as- 
sumption, and  an  assumption  not  made  for  the  facilitating  of 
inquiry,  but  simply  for  the  proof  of  the  theory  assumed  ; it  is 


LEiBNrrz, 


545 


an  hypothesis  framed  for  the  sake  of  explaining — what?— the 
hypotheses  itself!  Ideas  are  first  assumed  to  he  innate;  to 
prove  this  assumption,  another  assumption — the  existence  of 
innate  ideas — is  made ; and  the  theory  is  complete. 

The  real  force  of  Leibnitz’s  theory  lies  in  his  distinction  be- 
tween contingent  and  necessary  truths,  and  in  his  position  that 
experience  alone  could  never  furnish  us  with  necessary  truths. 
The  examination  of  this  we  must  delay  till  we  come  to  Kant. 

A brief  view  of  the  celebrated  scheme  of  Pre-estahlished  Har- 
mony will  be  all  that  is  necessary  to  complete  what  we  have 
here  to  say  of  Leibnitz.  It  was  in  those  days  an  axiom  univer- 
sally admitted  that  “Like  could  only  act  upon  Like.”  The 
question  then  arose : how  does  body  act  upon  mind ; how  does 
mind  act  upon  body  ? The  two  were  utterly  unlike : how 
could  they  act  upon  each  other  ? In  other  words : how  is  Per- 
ception possible  ? All  the  ordinary  explanations  of  Perception 
were  miserable  failures.  If  the  mind  perceives  copies  of  things, 
how  are  these  copies  transmitted?  Effluvia,  eidola,  images,  motions 
in  spirits,  etc.,  were  not  only  hypotheses,  but  hypotheses  which 
bore  no  examination : they  did  not  get  rid  of  the  difflculty  of 
two  unlike  substances  acting  upon  each  other. 

Leibnitz  borrowed  this  hypothesis  from  Spinoza — whom,  by 
the  way,  he  always  abuses:  The  human  mind  and  the  human 
body  are  two  independent  hut  corresponding  machines.  They 
are  so  adjusted  that  they  are  like  two  unconnected  clocks  con- 
structed so  that  at  the  same  instant  one  should  strike  the  hour 
and  the  other  point  it.  “ I cannot  help  coming  to  this  notion,” 
he  says,  “ that  God  created  the  soul  in  such  a manner  at  first, 
that  it  should  represent  within  itself  all  the  simultaneous  changes 
in  the  body ; and  that  he  has  made  the  body  also  in  such  a 
manner  as  that  it  must  of  itself  do  what  the  soul  wills  : so  that 
the  laws  which  make  the  thoughts  of  the  soul  follow  each  other 
in  regular  succession,  must  produce  images  which  shall  be  coin- 
cident with  the  impressions  made  by  external  objects  upon  our 
organs  of  sense  ; while  the  laws  by  which  the  motions  of  the 


546 


SUMMARY  OF  THE  THIRD  EPOCH. 


body  follow  each  other  are  likewise  so  coincident  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  soul  as  to  give  to  our  volitions  and  actions  the 
very  same  appearance  as  if  the  latter  were  really  the  natural 
and  the  necessary  consequences  of  the  former.”* 

This  hypothesis  has  been  much  ridiculed  by  those  unaware  of 
the  difficulties  it  was  framed  to  explain.  It  is  so  repugnant  how 
ever  to  all  ordinary  views,  that  it  gained  few,  if  any,  adherents. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SUMMARY  OF  THE  THIRD  EPOCH. 

The  result  of  the  speculations  we  have  been  considering — spec 
Illations  begun  by  Gassendi  and  Hobbes,  and  further  developed 
by  Locke — was  to  settle,  for  a long  while,  the  dispute  respecting 
Experience,  and  to  give  therefore  a new  direction  to  inquiry. 

It  was  considered  as  established, — 1st.  That  we  could  have  no 
knowledge  not  derived  from  experience.  2d.  That  experience 
•was  of  two  kinds,  viz.  of  external  objects  and  of  internal  opera- 
tions ; therefore  there  were  two  distinct  sources — sensation  and 
reflection.  3d.  That  all  knowledge  could  only  consist  in  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas.  4th.  Finally,  that  we 
could  never  know  things  in  themselves,  but  only  things  as  they 
affect  us ; in  other  words,  we  could  ouly  know  our  ideas. 

To  this  had  Locke  brought  Philosophy.  Rightly  interpreted, 
it  was  a denial  of  all  Philosophy — a demonstration  of  its  im 
possibility ; but  this  interpretation  Locke  did  not  put  upon  his 
doctrines.  That  remained  for  Hume.  Locke’s  system  jiroduced 
three  distinct  systems:  Berkeley’s  Idealism,  Hume’s  Skepticism, 
and  Condillac’s  Sensationalism. 

* The  best  edition  of  Leibnitz’s  works  is  that  by  Erdmann — Leibnitii 
Opera  Philosoph.ica : Berlin,  1839.  The  Nouveaux  Eesais  &.rc  there  for  the 
second  time  published  (the  first  was  in  Easpe’s  edition,  Leipzig,  1765) ; and 
they  have  been  since  republished  in  a cheap  and  convenient  form  by  M, 
Jacques  ; Paris,  1845. 


FOURTH  EPOCH. 


THE  SUBJECTIVE  NATUKE  OF  KNOWLEDGE  LEADS  TO 
IDEALISM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BEEKELEY. 

§ I.  Life  of  Berkeley. 

There  are  few  men  of  whom  England  has  better  reason  to  be 
proud  than  of  George  Berkeley,  Bishop  of  Cloyne.  To  extra- 
ordinary merits  as  a writer  and  thinker,  he  united  the  most  ex- 
quisite purity  and  generosity  of  character;  and  it  is  still  a 
moot-point  whether  he  was  greater  in  head  or  heart. 

He  was  born  on  the  12th  of  March,  1684,  at  Kilkrin,  in  the 
county  of  Kilkenny  ; and  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
where,  in  1707,  he  was  admitted  as  a Fellow.  In  1709,  he  pub- 
lished his  New  Theory  of  Vision,  which  made  an  epoch  in 
Science ; and  the  year  after,  his  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge, 
which  made  an  epoch  in  Metaphysics.  After  this  he  came  to 
London,  where  he  was  received  with  open  arms.  “Ancient 
learning,  exact  science,  polished  society,  modern  literature,  and 
the  fine  arts,  contributed  to  adorn  and  enrich  the  mind  of  this 
accomplished  man.  All  his  contemporaries  agreed  with  the 
Satirist  in  ascribing 

‘ To  Berkeley  every  virtue  under  heaven.’ 

Adverse  factions  and  hostile  wits  concurred  only  in  loving,  admi- 
ring, and  contributing  to  advance  him.  The  severe  sense  of 


5i8 


BERKELEY. 


Swift  endured  his  visions ; the  modest  Addison  endeavored  to 
reconcile  Clarke  to  his  ambitious  speculations.  His  character 
converted  the  satire  of  Pope  into  fervid  praise.  Even  the  dis- 
cerning, fastidious,  and  turbulent  Atterbury  said,  after  an  inter- 
view with  him,  ‘ So  much  learning,  so  much  knowledge,  so  much 
innocence,  and  such  humility,  I did  not  think  had  been  the  por- 
tion of  any  but  angels,  till  I saw  this  gentleman.’ 

His  acquaintance  with  the  wits  led  to  his  contributing  to  the 
Guardian.  He  became  chaplain  and  afterwards  secretary  to  the 
Earl  of  Peterborough,  whom  he  accompanied  on  his  embassy  to 
Sicily.  He  subsequently  made  the  tour  of  Europe  with  Mr. 
ishe,  and  at  Paris  met  Malebranche,  with  whom  he  had  an  ani- 
mated discussion  on  the  ideal  theory.  In  1'724  he  was  made 
Dean  of  Derry.  This  was  worth  eleven  hundred  pounds  a year 
to  him ; but  he  resigned  it  in  order  to  dedicate  his  life  to  the 
conversion  of  the  North  American  savages,  stipulating  only  with 
the  Government  for  a salary  of  one  hundred  pounds  a year.  On 
this  romantic  and  generous  e.xpedition  he  was  accompanied  by 
his  young  wife.  He  set  sail  for  Rhode  Island,  carrying  with  him 
a valuable  library  of  books,  and  the  bulk  of  his  property.  But, 
to  the  shame  of  the  Government,  be  it  said,  the  promises  made 
him  were  not  fulfilled,  and  after  seven  years  of  single-handed 
endeavor,  he  w'as  foreed  to  return  to  England,  having  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  fortune  in  vain. 

He  was  made  Bishop  of  Cloyne  in  1734.  When  he  wished 
to  resign,  the  King  would  not  permit  him ; and  being  keenly 
alive  to  the  evils  of  non-residence,  he  made  an  arrangement  be- 
fore leaving  Cloyne,  whereby  he  settled  £200  a year,  during  his 
ibsence,  on  the  poor.  In  1752,  he  removed  to  Oxford,  where, 
in  1753,  he  was  suddenly  seized,  while  reading,  with  palsy  of  the 
heart,  and  died  almost  instantaneously. 

Of  his  numerous  writings  we  cannot  here  speak ; two  only 
Delong  to  our  subject : the  Principles  of  Knowledge,  and  the 


* Sir  J.  Mackintosh. 


LIFE  OF  BERKELEY. 


549 


Dialogues  of  Hylas  and  Philonous.  We  hope  to  remove  some 
of  the  errors  and  prejudices  with  which  his  name  is  incrusted. 
We  hope  to  show  that,  even  in  what  are  called  his  wildest  moods, 
Berkeley  was  a plain,  sincere,  deep-thinking  man,  not  a sophist, 
playing  with  paradoxes  to  display  his  skill. 

§ II.  Berkeley  and  Common  Sense. 

All  the  world  has  heard  of  Berkeley’s  Idealism ; and  innumer- 
able “ coxcombs  ” have  vanquished  it  with  a grin.”*  Ridicule 
has  not  been  sparing.  Argument  has  not  been  wanting.  Ideal- 
ism has  been  laughed^at,  written  at,  talked  at,  shrieked  at.  That 
it  has  been  understood  is  not  so  apparent.  In  reading  the  criti- 
cisms upon  his  theory  it  is  quite  ludicrous  to  notice  the  constant 
iteration  of  trivial  objections,  which,  trivial  as  they  are,  Berkeley 
had  already  anticipated.  In  fact  the  critics  misunderstood  him, 
and  then  reproached  him  for  inconsistency — inconsistency,  not 
with  his  principles,  but  with  theirs.  They  forced  a meaning  upon 
his  words  which  he  had  expressly  rejected ; and  then  triumphed 
over  him  because  he  did  not  pursue  their  principles  to  the  extrav- 
agances which  would  have  resulted  from  them. 

When  Berkeley  denied  the  existence  of  matter,  he  meant  by 
“ matter  ” that  unknown  substratum,  the  existence  of  which 
Locke  had  declared  to  be  a necessary  inference  from  our  knowl- 
edge of  qualities,  but  the  nature  of  which  must  ever  be  altogether 
hidden  from  us.  Philosophers  had  assumed  the  existence  of 
Substance,  i.  e,  of  a noumenon  lying  underneath  all  phenomena — 
a substratum  supporting  all  qualities — a something  in  which  all 
accidents  inhere.  This  unknown  Substance,  Berkeley  rejects.  It 
is  a mere  abstraction,  he  says.  If  it  is  unknown,  unknowable, 
it  is  a figment,  and  I will  none  of  it ; for  it  is  a figment  worse 
than  useless ; it  is  pernicious,  as  the  basis  of  all  atheism.  If  by 
matter  you  understand  that  which  is  seen,  felt,  tasted,  and  touch- 
ed, then  I say  matter  exists : I am  as  firm  a believer  in  its  exist- 


* “ And  coxcombs  vanquish  Berkeley  with  a grin.” — Pope. 


550 


BERKELEY. 


ence  as  any  one  can  be,  and  herein  I agree  with  the  vulgar.  If, 
on  the  contrary,  you  understand  by  matter  that  occult  substratum 
which  is  not  seen,  not  felt,  not  tasted,  and  not  touched — that  of 
which  the  senses  do  not,  cannot,  inform  you — then  I say  I believe 
not  in  the  existence  of  matter,  and  herein  I differ  from  the  phi- 
losophers and  agree  with  the  vulgar. 

“ I am  not  for  changing  things  into  ideas,”  he  says,  “ but  rather 
ideas  into  things ; since  those  immediate  objects  of  perception, 
which,  according  to  you  (Berkeley  might  have  said  according  to 
all  philosophers)  are  only  appearances  of  things,  I take  to  be  the 
real  things  themselves. 

“ Hylas.  Things ! you  may  pretend  what  you  please  ; but  it 
is  certain  you  leave  us  nothing  but  the  empty  forms  of  things, 
the  outside  of  which  only  strikes  the  senses. 

“ Philonous.  What  you  call  the  empty  forms  and  outside  of 
things  seem  to  me  the  very  things  themselves.  . . . We  both 
therefore  agree  in  this,  that  we  perceive  only  sensible  forms ; but 
herein  we  ditfer : you  will  have  them  to  be  empty  appearances ; 
I,  real  beings.  In  short,  you  do  not  trust  your  senses  ; I do." 

Berkeley  is  always  accused  of  having  propounded  a theory 
which  contradicts  the  evidence  of  the  senses.  That  a man  who 
thus  disregards  the  senses  must  be  out  of  his  own,  was  a ready 
answer ; ridicule  was  not  slow  in  retort ; declamation  gave  itself 
elbow-room,  and  exhibited  itself  in  a triumphant  attitude.  It 
was  easy  to  declare  that  “ the  man  who  seriously  entertains  this 
belief,  though  in  other  respects  he  may  be  a very  good  man,  as 
1 man  may  be  who  believes  he  is  made  of  glass ; yet  surely  he 
hath  a soft  place  in  his  understanding,  and  hath  been  hurt  by 
much  thinking.”* 

Unfortunately  for  the  critics,  Berkeley  did  not  contradict  the 
evidence  of  the  senses ; did  not  propound  a theory  at  variance 
in  this  point  with  the  ordinary  belief  of  mankind.  His  pecu- 
liarity is,  that  he  confined  himself  exclusively  to  the  evidence  of 


Reid,  Inquiry. 


BERKELEY  AND  COMMON  SENSE. 


551 


the  senses.  What  the  senses  informed  him  of,  that,  and  that 
only,  would  he  accept.  He  held  fast  to  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness ; he  placed  himself  resolutely  in  the  centre  of  the  instinctive 
belief  of  mankind  : there  he  took  his  stand,  leaving  to  philoso- 
phers the  region  of  supposition,  inference,  and  of  occult  sub- 
stances. 

The  reproach  made  to  him  is  really  the  reproach  he  made  to 
philosophers,  namely,  that  they  would  not  trust  to  the  evidence 
of  their  senses ; that  over  and  aiove  what  the  senses  told  them, 
they  imagined  an  occult  something  of  which  the  senses  gave  no 
indication.  “Now  it  was  against  this  metaphysical  phantom  of 
the  brain,”  says  an  acute  critic,  “ this  crotchet-world  of  philoso- 
phers, and  against  it  alone,  that  all  the  attacks  of  Berkeley  were 
directed.  The  doctrine  that  the  realities  of  things  were  not  made 
for  man,  and  that  he  must  rest  satisfied  with  mere  appearances, 
was  regarded,  and  rightly,  by  him,  as  the  parent  of  skepticism 
with  all  her  desolating  train.  He  saw,  that  philosophy,  in  giving 
up  the  reality  immediately  within  her  grasp,  in  favor  of  a reality 
supposed  to  be  less  delusive,  which  lay  beyond  the  limits  of  ex- 
perience, resembled  the  dog  in  the  fable,  who,  carrying  a piece 
of  meat  across  a river,  let  the  substance  slip  from  his  jaws,  while 
w'ith  foolish  greed  he  snatched  at  the  shadow  in  the  stream. 
The  dog  lost  his  dinner,  and  philosophy  let  go  her  secure  hold 
upon  truth.  He  therefore  sided  with  the  vulgar,  who  recognize 
no  distinction  between  the  reality  and  the  appearance  of  objects, 
and,  repudiating  the  baseless  hypothesis  of  a world  existing  un- 
known and  unperceived,  he  resolutely  maintained  that  what  are 
called  the  sensible  shows  of  things  are  in  truth  the  very  things 
themselves.”* 

True  it  is  that,  owing  to  the  ambiguities  of  language,  Berke- 
ley’s theory  does  seem  to  run  counter  to  the  ordinary  belief  of 
mankind,  because  by  Matter  men  commonly  understand  the 


* Blachwood' s Mag.,  June,  1842,  p.  814,  art,  Berhdey  and  Idealism:  under 
stood  to  have  been  written  by  Professor  Perrier. 


552 


BEKICEI.PJY. 


Seen,  the  Tasted,  the  Touched,  etc. ; therefore  when  the  exist' 
ence  of  matter  is  denied,  people  naturally  suppose  that  the  exist- 
ence of  the  Seen,  the  Tasted,  and  the  Touched  is  denied,  never 
suspecting  that  Matter,  in  its  philosophical  sense,  is  the  not  seen, 
not  tasted,  not  touched.  Berkeley  has  not,  it  must  be  confessed, 
sufficiently  guarded  against  all  ambiguity.  Thus  he  says  in  one 
of  the  opening  sections  of  his  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge, 
that  “ it  is  indeed  an  opinion  strangely  prevailing  amongst  men 
that  houses,  mountains,  rivers,  and,  in  a word,  all  sensible  objects, 
have  an  existence,  natural  or  real,  distinct  from  their  being  per- 
ceived by  the  understanding.”  This  is  striking  a false  key- 
note. It  rouses  the  reader  to  oppose  a coming  paradox.  Yet 
Berkeley  foresaw  and  answered  the  objections  which  Wimpey, 
Beattie,  Reid,  and  others  brought  forward.  He  was  not  giving 
utterance  to  a caprice ; he  was  not  spinning  an  ingenious 
theory,  knowing  all  the  while  that  it  was  no  more  than  an  inge- 
nuity. He  was  an  earnest  thinker,  patient  in  the  search  after  truth. 
Anxious  therefore  that  his  speculations  should  not  be  regarded 
as  mere  dialectical  displays,  he  endeavored  on  various  occasions 
to  guard  himself  from  misapprehension. 

“ I do  not  argue  against  the  existence  of  any  one  thing  that 
we  can  apprehend  either  by  sensation  or  reflection.  That  the 
things  I see  with  my  eyes  and  touch  with  my  hands  do  exist, 
really  exist,  I make  not  the  least  question.  The  only  thing 
whose  existence  I deny  is  that  which  philosophers  call  Matter,  or 
corporeal  substance.  And  in  doing  this  the'^c  is  no  damage 
done  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  who,  I dare  say,  will  never  miss 
it.  . . . 

“ If  any  man  thinks  we  detract  from  the  reality  or  existence  of 
things,  he  is  very  far  from  understanding  what  has  been  pre 
mised  in  the  plainest  terms  I could  think  of.  . . . It  will  be 
urged  that  thus  much  at  least  is  true,  viz.  that  we  take  away  all 
corporeal  substances.  To  this  my  answer  is,  that  if  the  word 
substance  be  taken  in  the  vulgar  sense  for  a combination  of  sen- 
sible qualities,  such  as  extension  solidity,  weight,  etc.,  this  we 


BERKELEY  AND  COMMON  SENSE. 


553 


cannot  be  accused  of  taking  away.* * * §  But  if  it  be  taken  in  the 
pbilosophic  sense,  for  tbe  support  of  accidents  or  qualities 
without  the  mind  ; then,  indeed,  I acknowledge  that  we  take  it 
away,  if  one  may  be  said  to  take  away  that  which  never  had 
any  existence,  not  even  in  the  imagination.!  But  say  what  we 
can,  some  perhaps  may  be  apt  to  reply,  he  will  still  believe  his 
senses,  and  never  suflfer  any  arguments,  however  plausible,  to 
prevail  over  the  certainty  of  them.  Be  it  so : assert  the  evi- 
dence of  sense  as  high  as  you  please,  we  are  willing  to  do  the 
same.  That  what  I see,  hear,  and  feel,  doth  exist,  i.  e.  is  per- 
ceived by  me,  I no  more  doubt  than  I do  of  my  own  being ; hut 
I do  not  see  how  the  testimony  of  sense  can  he  alleged  as  a proof 
of  any  thing  which  is  not  perceived  hy  sense."\_ 

After  reading  these  passages  (and  more  of  a similar  cast 
might  be  quoted),  in  what  terms  shall  we  speak  of  the  works 
written  to  refute  Idealism  ? Where  was  the  acuteness  of  the 
Reids  and  Beatties,  when  they  tauntingly  asked  why  Berkeley 
did  not  run  his  head  against  a post,  did  not  walk  over  preci- 
pices, etc.,  as,  in  accordance  with  his  theory,  no  pain,  no  broken 
limbs  could  result  ?§  Where  was  philosophical  acumen,  when 
writers  could  imagine  they  refuted  Berkeley  by  an  appeal  to 
common  sense — when  they  contrasted  the  instinctive  beliefs  of 
mankind  with  the  speculative  paradoxes  of  a philosopher,  who 


* An  answer  to  Dr.  Johnson’s  peremptory  refutation  of  Berkeley,  visi. 
kicking  a stone ; as  if  Berkeley  ever  denied  that  what  we  call  stones  e.\- 
isted ! 

+ This  is  not  well  said.  That  substance  was  imagined  to  exist  (as  a sup- 
port of  accidents)  Berkeley’s  argument  supposes  ; it  is  against  such  an  ima- 
ginary existence  he  directs  his  attacks.  Perhaps  he  means  that  no  image  of 
substance  could  be  formed  in  the  mind ; which  no  one  disputes. 

t Principles  of  Human,  Knowledge,  sections  35,  36,  37,  40. 

§ “ But  what  is  the  consequence  ? I resolve  not  to  believe  my  senses  ? 1 
break  my  head  against  a post  that  comes  in  my  way ; I step  into  a dirty 
kennel ; and  after  twenty  such  wise  and  rational  actions  I am  taken  up  and 
clapt  into  a madhouse.  Now  I confess  I had  rather  make  one  ot  those  credu- 
lous fools  whom  nature  imposes  upon,  than  of  those  wise  and  rational  phi- 
.osophers  who  resolve  to  withhold  assent  at  all  this  expense.” — Eeid’s 
Inquiry,  ch.  4,  § 20.  This  one  passage  is  as  good  as  a hundred. 


554 


BEKKELEY. 


expressly  took  his  stand  beside  common  sense  against  philoso- 
phers ? 

Men  trained  in  metaphysical  speculations  may  find  it  difficult 
to  conceive  the  non-existence  of  an  invisible  unknovrable  sub- 
stratum ; but  that  the  bulk  of  mankind  fine,  ‘t  almost  impossible 
to  conceive  any  such  substratum,  is  a fact  which  the  slightest 
inquiry  will  verify.  We  remember  a discussion  which  lasted  an 
entire  evening,  in  which  by  no  power  of  illustration,  by  no  force 
of  argument,  could  the  idea  of  this  substance,  apart  from  its 
sensible  qualities,  be  rendered  conceivable  to  our  antagonist. 

Berkeley  therefore,  in  denying  the  existence  of  matter,  sided 
with  common  sense.  He  thought,  with  the  vulgar,  that  matter 
was  that  of  which  his  senses  informed  him  ; not  an  occult  some- 
thing of  which  he  could  have  no  information.  The  table  he 
saw  before  him  certainly  existed  : it  was  hard,  polished,  colored, 
of  a certain  figure,  and  cost  some  guineas..  But  there  was  no 
phantom  table  lying  underneath  the  apparent  table — there  was 
no  invisible  substance  supporting  that  table.  What  he  per- 
ceived was  a table,  and  nothing  more ; what  he  perceived  it  to 
be,  he  would  believe  it  to  be,  and  nothing  more.  His  starting- 
point  was  thus  what  the  plain  dictates  of  his  senses,  and  the 
senses  of  all  men,  furnished. 


§ HI.  Idealism. 

The  first  step  which  a philosopher  takes  in  any  inquiry  is  a 
departure  from  Common  Sense.  Reflecting  upon  what  his 
^enses  convey  to  him,  he  seeks  an  explanation  of  phenomena ; 
and  it  is  in  proportion  to  the  care  with  which  he  analyzes  the 
facts  to  be  explained,  that  he  is  usually  supposed  to  be  free 
fi’om  the  mere  extravagances  of  speculation.  And  yet  Berke- 
ley’s rigorous  analysis  of  the  facts  of  consciousness  has  obtained 
for  him  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most  extravagant  oi 
speculators ! 

This  is  the  problem  : our  senses  inform  us  of  the  existence  of 


IDEALISM. 


555 


certain  sensible  qualities,  such  as  extension,  color,  solidity,  etc. 
But  our  reason  tells  us  that  these  qualities  must  be  qualities  of 
something : they  cannot  «xist  as  mere  extension,  color,  etc. : 
there  must  be  something  extended,  colored,  etc.  What  is  that 
something  ? The  solution  given  by  the  philosophers  was  uni- 
formly this  : what  that  substance  is  we  can  never  know,  because 
it  lies  beyond  our  apprehension  ; but  we  are  forced  to  admit  it, 
as  a support  to  the  qualities  which  we  do  apprehend,  as  a sub- 
stance in  which  sensible  qualities  inhere.  So  that,  deeply  con- 
sidered, the  only  reason  for  inferring  the  existence  of  Matter  is 
the  necessity  for  some  synthesis  of  attributes. 

Now,  what  did  Berkeley  ? With  very  subtle  perception  of 
the  diflBculties  of  the  problem,  he  boldly  solved  it  by  making  the 
synthesis  a mental  one.  Thus  was  matter  wholly  got  rid  of ; it 
had  no  lono-er  the  excuse  of  beina:  an  inference. 

The  nature  of  human  knowledge  is  the  first  object  of  his  in- 
quiry. “ It  is  said  that  the  faculties  we  have  are  few,  and  those 
designed  by  nature  for  the  support  and  pleasure  of  life,  and  not 
to  penetrate  into  the  inward  essence  and  constitution  of  things. 
Besides,  the  mind  of  man,  being  finite,  when  it  treats  of  things 
which  partake  of  infinity,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  it  run 
into  absurdities  and  contradictions,  out  of  which  it  is  impossible 
it  should  ever  extricate  itself,  it  being  of  the  nature  of  infinite 
not  to  be  comprehended  by  that  which  is  finite.” 

This  is  plainly  enough  launched  at  Locke ; but  the  worthy 
Bishop  has  no  such  disposition  “ to  sit  down  in  quiet  ignorance.” 
He  suspects  that  “ we  may  be  too  partial  in  placing  the  fault 
originally  in  our  faculties,  and  not  rather  in  the  wrong  use  we 
make  of  them.”  He  believes  that  God  is  too  bountiful  not  to  have 
placed  knowledge  within  our  reach,  of  which  he  has  given  us  the 
desire.  Berkeley  here  forgets  the  lesson  man  was  taught  in  Para- 
dise, where  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  was  placed  within  his  reach, 
but  the  fruits  thereof  forbidden  him.  “ Upon  the  whole,”  con- 
tinues Berkeley,  “ I am  inclined  to  think  that  the  far  greater 
part,  if  not  all  the  difficulties  which  have  hitherto  amused  philoso- 


556 


BEKKELET. 


phers  and  blocked  up  the  way  to  knowledge,  are  entirely  owing 
to  themselves.  That  we  have  first  raised  a dust,  and  then  com- 
plain we  cannot  see.” 

The  pretension  on  which  all  philosophy  is  founded  is  here 
openly  proclaimed.  The  consequences  of  Locke’s  doctrine  are 
rejected  ; the  premises  are  retained.  Berkeley’s  account  of  the 
origin  of  knowledge  is  the  same  as  Locke’s,  only  somewhat 
more  explicitly  defined.  “ It  is  evident  to  any  one  who  takes  a 
survey  of  the  objects  of  human  knowledge  that  they  are  either 
ideas  actually  imprinted  on  the  senses,  or  else  such  as  are  per- 
ceived by  attending  to  the  passions  and  operations  of  the  mind  ; 
or,  lastly,  ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory  and  imagination, 
either  compounding,  dividing,  or  barely  representing  those  origi- 
nally perceived  in  the  aforesaid  ways.” 

Remark,  firstly,  that  the  objects  of  knowledge  are  said  to  he 
ideas.  This  has  a paradoxical  air  to  those  unaccustomed  to 
metaphysics,  yet  it  is  the  simple  expression  of  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness. All  that  the  mind  can  be  conversant  about  is  ob- 
viously its  ideas : we  are  conscious  of  nothing  but  the  changes 
that  take  place  in  our  minds.  Whether  these  ideas  are  the 
copies  or  representatives  of  any  things — whether  changes  in  our 
state  are  to  be  attributed  to  any  external  cause : this  is  a question 
of  philosophy,  a question  which  common  sense  makes  no  scruple  of 
begging.  You  see  before  you  a flower,  and  you  assume  that  an 
external  thing  resembling  that  flower  exists,  and  that  your  sensa- 
tion is  produced  by  it,  as  a reflection  in  a mirror  is  produced  by 
an  object  out  of  the  mirror.  But  dive  deeper  into  consciousness ; 
interrogate  yourself,  and  you  will  find  that  the  comparison  of  the 
mirror  is  an  assumption  made  only  to  explain  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness, not  given  in  those  facts.  Moreover,  granting  the  as- 
sumption, you  will  then  make  the  mind  immediately  conversant 
with  its  ideas  only  ; for  assuming  that  objects  reflect  themselves 
m the  mirror,  the  mirror  itself  knows  only  the  reflections  ; these 
it  knows  immediately ; the  objects  it  knows  mediately,  i.  e. 
through  the  reflections.  Thus  is  Berkeley  keeping  rigorously  to 


IDEALISM. 


557 


tlie  facts  of  consciousness  when  he  says  that  the  “ objects  of 
knowledge  are  ideas.” 

Secondly,  remark  on  Berkeley’s  use  of  the  word  idea,  which 
stands  both  for  sensation  and  idea.  We  cannot  but  regard  this 
confusion  of  language  as  the  cause  of  no  little  misapprehension 
of  his  doctrines.  It  is  well  therefore  to  warn  the  reader  thereof. 
Now  to  consequences.  “That  neither  our  thoughts,  nor  pas- 
sions, nor  the  ideas  formed  by  our  imagination,  exist  without  the 
mind,  is  what  everybody  will  allow ; and  to  me  it  is  no  less  evi- 
dent that  the  various  sensations  or  ideas  imprinted  on  the  sense, 
however  blended  or  combined  together  {that  is,  whatever  ejects 
they  compose'),  cannot  exist  otherwise  than  in  a mind  perceiving 
them.  . . . The  table  I write  on,  I say  exists,  L e.  I see  it  and  feel  it, 
and  if  I were  out  of  my  study  I should  say  it  existed ; meaning 
thereby  that  if  I was  in  my  study  I might  perceive  it,  or  that 
some  other  spirit  actually  does  perceive  it.  As  to  what  is  said 
about  the  existence  of  unthinking  things,  without  any  relation  to 
their  being  perceived,  that  is  to  me  perfectly  unintelligible. 
Their  esse  is  percipi ; nor  is  it  possible  they  should  have  any 
existence  out  of  the  minds  or  thinking  things  which  perceive 
them.” 

It  is  in  this  last  paragraph  that  the  kernel  of  his  system  lies. 
He  had  identified  objects  with  ideas  : having  done  so,  it  was  easy 
to  prove  that  objects  could  not  exist  without  a perceiving  mind  if' 
in  which  to  exist  as  ideas.  “ For  what  are  the  objects  but  the 
things  which  we  perceive  by  sense  ?”  Realism  assents ; objects 
are  what  we  perceive.  “And  what,  I pray  you,”  continues 
Berkeley,  “ do  we  perceive  besides  our  own  ideas  or  sensations  ?” 
Realism  hesitates  ; certainly  the  mirror  has  nothing  immediately 
present  to  it,  besides  the  reflections.  “ And  is  it  not  plainly  re- 
pugnant,” triumphantly  continues  Idealism,  “ that  any  one  of 
these  ideas,  or  any  combination  of  them,  should  exist  unper- 
ceived ?”  Realism  has  no  answer  to  offer.  It  is  in  a dilemma 
from  which  there  is  apparently  no  escape. 

The  supposition  of  the  existence  of  matter  is  founded  on  the 
38 


I 


:a 


558 


BERKELEY. 


doctrine  of  abstract  ideas  (against  which  Berkeley  wages  war), 
“For  can  there  be  a nicer  strain  of  abstraction  than  to  distin- 
guish the  existence  of  sensible  objects  from  their  being  perceived, 
so  as  to  conceive  them  existing  unperceived  ? Light  and  colors, 
heat  and  cold,  extension  and  figures — in  a word,  the  things  we 
see  and  feel — what  are  they  but  so  many  sensations,  notions, 
-t^L>-ideas,  or  impressions  on  the  sense ; and  is  it  not  impossible  to 
’separate,  even  in  thought,  any  of  these  from  perception  ? For  my 
part,  I might  as  easily  divide  a thing  from  itself.  I may  indeed 
divide  in  my  thoughts,  or  conceive  apart  from  each  other,  those 
things  which  perhaps  I never  perceived  by  sense  so  divided. 
Thus  I imagine  the  trunk  of  the  human  body  without  the  limbs, 
or  conceive  the  smell  of  a rose  without  thinking  of  the  rose  itself. 
So  far  I will  not  deny  that  I can  abstract,  if  that  be  properly 
called  abstraction  which  extends  only  to  the  conceiving  sepa- 
rately such  objects  as  it  is  impossible  may  really  exist,  or  be  ac- 
tually perceived  asunder  ; but  my  conceiving  or  imagining  power 
does  not  extend  beyond  the  possibility  of  real  existence  or  per- 
ception. Hence,  as  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  see  or  feel  any 
thing  without  an  actual  sensation  of  that  thing,  so  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  conceive  in  my  thoughts  any  sensible  thing  or  ob- 
ject distinct  from  the  sensation  or  perception  of  it.  In  truth,  the 
object  and  the  sensation  are  the  same  thing,  and  cannot  there- 
fore be  abstracted  from  one  another.  . . . 

“ In  a word,  all  the  choir  of  heaven  and  furniture  of  earth — 
all  those  bodies  which  compose  the  mighty  fi  ame  of  the  world — 
have  not  any  subsistence  without  a mind  ; their  to  l^per- 

ceiye^^  or  known  ; and  consequently,  so  long  as  they  are  not  ac- 
tually perceived  by  me,  or  do  not  exist  in  my  mind,  or  that  of 
any  other  created  spirit,  they  must  either  have  no  existence  at 
all,  or  else  subsist  in  the  mind  of  some  eternal  spirit.  . . . 

“Though  we  hold  indeed  the  objects  of  sense  to  be  nothing 
else  but  ideas  which  cannot  exist  unperceived,  yet  we  may  not 
hence  conclude  they  have  no  existence  except  only  while  they 
are  perceived  by  us,  since  there  may  be  some  other  spirit  that 


IDEALISM. 


559 


perceives  them,  though  we  do  not.  Whenever  bodies  are  said  to 
have  no  existence  without  the  mind,  I would  not  he  understood  to 
mean  this  or  that  particular  mind,  hut  all  minds  whatsoever.  It 
does  not  therefore  follow  that  bodies  are  annihilated  and  created 
every  moment,  or  exist  not  at  all  during  the  intervals  between 
our  perception  of  them.  ... 

“ I am  content  to  put  the  whole  upon  this  issue : if  you  can 
but  conceive  it  possible  for  one  extended  movable  substance,  or 
in  general  for  any  one  idea,  or  any  thing  like  an  idea,  to  exist 
otherwise  than  in  a mind  perceiving  it,  I shall  readily  give  up 
the  cause ; I shall  grant  you  its  existence,  though  you  cannot 
either  give  me  a reason  why  you  believe  it  exists,  or  assign  any 
use  to  it  when  it  is  supposed  to  exist.  I say  the  bare  possibility 
of  your  opinion  being  true,  shall  pass  for  an  argument  that  it 
is  so. 

“But,  say  you,  surely  there  is  nothing  easier  than  for  me  to 
imagine  trees  in  a park,  Dr  books  iu  a closet,  and  nobody  by  to 
perceive  them.  I answer,  you  may  so:  there  is  no  diflSculty  in 
it.  But  what  is  all  this,  I beseech  you,  more  than  framing  in 
your  mind  certain  ideas  which  you  call  books  and  trees,  and  at 
the  same  time  omitting  to  frame  the  idea  of  any  one  perceiving 
them  ? 

“ But  do  not  you  yourself  perceive  or  thinh  of  them  all  the 
while  ? This  therefore  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  : it  only  shows 
you  have  the  power  of  imagining  or  framing  ideas  in  your  mind, 
but  it  does  not  show  that  you  can  conceive  it  possible  the  objects 
of  your  thought  may  exist  without  the  mind.  To  make  out  this, 
it  is  necessary  that  you  conceive  them  existing  unperceived  or 
imthought  of,  which  is  a manifest  repugnancy.  When  we  do 
our  utmost  to  conceive  the  existence  of  external  bodies,  we  are  all 
the  while  only  contemplating  our  own  ideasf* 

The  last  very  remarkable  passage  must  have  been  overlooked 


* The  foregoing  passages  are  all  taken  from  the  FrinoipUs  of  Human 
Knowledge,  sections  5,  6,  6,  22  and  23. 


560 


BERKELEY. 


by  the  critic  before  mentioned,  otherwise  he  would  not  have  said 
that  the  “knot  which  Berkeley  loosened,  but  which  he  certainly 
died  not  expi'icitly  untie,”  was  to  be  resolved,  for  the  first  time, 
by  the  arguments  he  there  brings  forward.  Berkeley  had  untied 
the  knot,  explicitly,  satisfactorily ; and  that  too  in  the  same  way 
as  his  critic.* 

The  distinction  between  primary  and  secondary  qualities, 
Berkeley  easily  refutes,  and  shows  that  the  same  arguments 
which  make  the  secondary  qualities  to  be  only  affections  of  the 
mind  may  be  applied  to  the  primary  qualities. 

Having  battered  down  almost  every  objection,  trivial  or  seri- 
ous, that  could  be  offered.  Idealism  iterates  its  fundamental  prin- 
ciple ; — All  our  knowledge  of  objects  is  a knowledge  of  ideas ; 
objects  and  ideas  are  the  same.  Ergo,  nothing  exists  but  what 
is  perceived. 

Realism  espies  a loophole.  These  ideas,  with  which  we  admit 
the  mind  to  be  solely  conversant,  are  but  the  ideas  (images)  of 
certain  things ; these  things  exist  independently  of  being  per- 
ceived, though  their  ideas  cannot.  Berkeley  foresaw  this  also. 
“ But,  say  you,  though  the  ideas  themselves  do  not  exist  without 
the  mind,  yet  there  may  be  things  like  them  whereof  they  are 
copies  or  resemblances,  which  things  exist  without  the  mind  in 
an  unthinking  substance.  I answer,  an  idea  can  he  like  nothing 
hpAapJ^a  ; a color  or  figure  can  be  like  nothing  but  another 
color  or  figure.  Again,  I ask  whether  those  supposed  originals 
or  external  things,  of  which  our  ideas  are  the  pictures  or  repre- 
sentations, be  themselves  perceivable  or  no  ? If  they  are,  then 
they  are  ideas,  and  we  have  gained  our  point ; but  if  you  say 
they  are  not,  I appeal  to  any  one  whether  it  be  sense  to  assert  a 
color  is  like  something  which  is  invisible ; hard  or  soft,  like  some- 
thing which  is  intangible  ?”  (Sect.  8.) 

Realism  is  without  a shadow  of  an  answer.  The  philosophers 
are  powerless  against  a theory  so  defended.  No  wonder  that 


* See  the  article  in  Blackwood,  p.  817,  tt  seq. 


IDEALISM. 


561 


Idealism  should  have  been  pronounced  irrefutable ; the  weapons 
were  not  forged,  or,  at  any  rate,  were  not  in  the  armory  of  phi- 
losophy, which  could  successfully  assail  a fortress  built  on  such  a 
position.  Dr.  Reid’s  attempt  we  shall  examine  by  and  by. 

As  far  as  the  simple  facts  of  Consciousness  extend,  the  analysis 
given  by  Berkeley  is  unimpeachable,  unless  we  deny  that  Con- 
sciousness is  immediately  affected  by  sensations,  and  assert  that 
it  is  immediately  affected  by  external  objects ; but  no  metaphysi- 
cian ever  took  up  this  position,  for  it  would  lead  him  to  maintain 
that  Consciousness  is  nothing  but  these  very  sensations,  which 
are  produced  in  the  organism  by  the  action  of  external  influ- 
ences ; and  this  would  be  getting  rid  of  the  substratum  Mind, 
in  order  to  rescue  the  substratum  Matter.  No  metaphysician 
therefore  ever  did  or  could,  logically,  object  to  Berkeley’s  funda- 
mental j)osition  ; but  only  tried  to  elude  it,  or  make  it  open  into 
other  issues. 

Given,  however,  the  facts,  there  comes  the  question  of  infer- 
ences. It  has  been  well  said  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  that  the 
denial  of  an  external  world  “ consists  of  a series  of  dependent 
propositions,  no  one  of  which  possesses  greater  certainty  than 
the  single  proposition  to  be  disproved.”*  If  the  grounds  of  our 
belief  in  an  external  world  are  questionable,  what  better  grounds 
have  we  for  the  belief  that  the  external  world  is  a mere  subjec- 
tive phenomenon  ? 

We  are  to  settle  whether  it  is  a more  plausible  hypothesis  that 
ideas  are  proximately  produced  in  us  by  the  mere  Will  of  the 
Creator,  whose  will  is  effectuated  by  certain  laws ; or  whether  the 
ideas  are  proximately  produced  in  us  by  external  objects,  which 
exist  quite  independently  of  us.  This  question,  remember,  is  one 
which  admits  of  no  proof.  It  is  not  a question  of  fact,  but  of 
plausibility.  It  is  not  to  be  decided  by  common  sense,  but  by 
analogical  reasoning.  Our  knowledge  extends  no  further  than 
OUT  ideas.  Our  inferences  can  be  nothing  more  than  inferences. 


Principles  of  Psychology,  p.  86 


662 


BERKELEY. 


0 

y 


Berkeley  has  far  better  reasons  for  his  inference  than  his  critics 
imagine.  He  could  not  see  the  force  of  the  argument  which 
made  Matter  a necessary  postulate.  That  we  could  have  sensa- 
tions and  ideas  without  the  presence  of  objects,  is  manifest  from 
the  fact  that  we  do  often  have  them  so,  in  dreams  and  frenzies. 
If,  therefore,  matter  is  not  always  necessary  for  the  production 
of  ideas — if  ideas  can  be  sometimes  produced  without  the  pres- 
ence of  external  objects — the  pretended  necessity,  which  alone 
forms  the  argument  for  the  existence  of  matter,  is  done  away  with. 

“ But  though,”  he  says,  “ we  might  possibly  have  all  our  sen- 
sations without  bodies,  yet  perhaps  it  may  be  thought  easier  to 
conceive  and  explain  the  manner  of  their  production  by  suppos- 
ing external  bodies  in  their  likeness  rather  than  otherwise,  and 
so  it  might  at  least  be  probable  there  are  such  things  as  bodies 
that  excite  ideas  in  our  minds.  But  neither  can  this  be  said,  for 
though  we  give  the  Materialists^  their  external  bodies,  they,  by 
their  own  confession,  are  never  nearer  the  knowing  how  our  ideas 
are  produced,  since  they  own  themselves  unable  to  comprehend 
in  what  manner  body  can  act  upons^it,  or  how  it  is  possible  it 
should  imprint  an  idea  in  the  mind.” 

We  have  here  the  difficulty  stated,  which  most  Dualists 
(those  who  maintain  the  existence  of  spirit  and  matter,  as  dis- 
tinct substances)  have  not  been  sufficiently  alive  to;  and  one 
which  gave  rise  to  Leibnitz’s  theory  of  pre-established  harmony, 
and  to  Malebranche’s  theory  of  our  seeing  all  things  in  God. 
This  difficulty  is  indeed  insuperable.  It  is  easy  to  talk  of  the 
spirit  being  a mirror  in  which  the  universe  reflects  itself.  Try 
for  an  instant  to  imagine  a substance,  such  as  matter,  reflecting 
itself  in,  or  acting  upon,  another  substance  having  no  one  prop- 
erty in  common  with  it.  You  cannot.  Nor  is  this  all : you 
cannot  even  imagine  two  substances  so  distinct  as  matter  and 
spirit  are  defined  to  be. 

Berkeley  then  is  right  in  triumphing  over  Realism  and  Dual 
ism.  Right  in  saying,  that  if  he  were  to  accord  them  the  exist- 
ence of  matter,  they  could  make  no  use  of  it.  The  subject  would 


IDEALISM. 


563 


remain  as  dark  as  before  : matter  throws  no  light  on  it.  He 
maintains  that  our  ideas  are  produced  in  us  in  conformity  with 
the  laws  of  Nature.  These  laws  have  been  ordained  by  God. 
To  suppose  that  matter  is  the  mere  occasional  cause — the  vehicle 
JJ^u^hjwMch  the  laws  of  Nature  0}>erate — is  gratuitous.  The 
agency  of  the  Creator  is  more  simple  and  direct.  He  had  no 
need  of  creating  first  laws,  and  afterwards  matter,  through  which 
these  laws  should  come  into  effect.  He  created  the  laws  alone ; 
they  act  upon_us-as-they-  were  destined  to  act,  and  without  the 
superfiuous  aid  of  matter,  which  is  a mere  go-between. 

Now,  as  an  inference — as  a scientific  hypothesis — few  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  the  question,  and  with  the  data  on  which 
it  was  founded,  can,  we  think,  deny  that  this  of  Berkeley  is  many 
degrees  superior  to  the  hypothesis  of  Dualism.  While  philoso- 
phers teach  that  there  are  two  distinct  eternal  substances,  which 
they  name  Spirit  and  Matter,  Berkeley;,  teaches  that  there  is  only 
■one  substance,  viz.  Spirit.  Wffhffhis  one  substance  he  can  con- 
struct the  world.  According,  therefore,  to  the  fundamental  rule 
in  philosophy,  that  “ Entities  or  existence  are  not  to_be_multi- 


L 


plied  unless  upon  necessity”  (entia  non  sunt  multiplicanda  proe- 
ter  necessitatem),  the  introduction  of  a second  substance,  viz. 
matter,  is  superfiuous,  or  worse.  Of  the  existence  of  matter  we 
have  no  proof  whatever ; it  is  a mere  inference ; it  is  inferred, 
in  order  to  explain  the  phenomena:  and  what  phenomena? 
those  of  perception — i.  e.  the  phenomena  of  the  thinking  sub- 
stance. 

If,  then,  Berkeley  is  more  rigorous  in  his  analysis  of  facts,  and 
more  ingenious  and  plausible  in  his  hypothesis,  than  his  antago- 
nists suppose,  shall  we  pronounce  his  Idealism  satisfactory  and 
true  ? 

Hume  said  of  it,  that  it  admitted  of  no  answer,  but  produced^ 
no  conviction.  And  we  have  met  with  no  final  refutation  of  it. 
Yet,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  irresistible  belief  of  mankind  that  ob- 
jects are  not  dependent  either  upon  our  perception  of  them,  or 
upon  the  perception  of  any  other  mind,  for  their  existence — that 


564 


BERKELEY. 


objects  exist  per  se,  and  would  continue  to  exist  if  all  minds  were 
annihilated — Berkeley’s  theory  never  can  produce  conviction. 
Reid,  therefore,  was  right  in  standing  by  this  universal  and  irre- 
sistible belief.  He  was  egregiously  wrong,  however,  in  supposing 
that  he  answered  Berkeley  by  an  appeal  to  this  irresistible  belief. 
It  ^oes  not  follow  that  a belief  which  is  irresistible  uiust_be_true. 
This  maxim,  so  loudly  proclaimed  by  the  Scotch  school,"*  is  re- 
futed by  several  well-known  facts  in  philosophy.  Thus— to  take 
the  most  striking  example — the  belief  that  the  sun  revolved  round 
the  earth,  was  for  many  centuries  irresistible,  and  false.  Why  may 
not  Berkeley  have  been  a metaphysical  Copernicus,  who,  by  rig- 
orous demonstration,  proved  the  believe  of  mankind  in  the  exist- 
ence of  matter  to  be  irresistible  and  false  ? Reid  has  no  answer 
to  give.  He  can  merely  say,  “I  side  with  the  vulgar;”  but  he 
might  have  given  the  same  answer,  to  Copernicus.  Many  illus- 
trious men  (Bacon  among  them)  ridiculed  the  Copernican  theory; 
but  all  the  dogmatism,  ridicule,  and  common  sense  in  the  world 
could  not  affect  that  theory.  Why,  we  repeat,  may  not  Berkeley 
have  been  a metaphysical  Copernicus  ? 

To  prove  that  he  was  not,  you  must  prove  his  reasoning  de- 
fective ; to  prove  this,  you  must  show  wherein  his  error  lies,  and 
not  wherein  his  theory  is  at  variance  with  your  belief.  All  that 
your  irresistible  belief  amounts  to,  is  that  of  a strong,  a very 
strong,  presumption  against  the  truth  of  that  which  opposes  it. 
Reid,  in  accepting  this  presumption  as  a proof,  was  in  the  right 
BO  long  as  Berkeley’s  reasoning  was  not  strong  enough  to  over- 


* Especially  by  Dr.  Brown,  wlio  says  that  the  “skeptical  argument  for  the 
non-existence  of  an  external  world,  as  a mere  play  of  reasoning,  admits  of 
no  reply.”  The  only  reply  he  makes  is,  that  the  belief  is  irresistible.  Hume 
had  already  admitted  that  the  belief  was  irresistible;  the  whole  scope  of  his 
philosophy  was  to  prove  it  both  irresistible  and/alse.  How  absurd,  then,  to 
appeal  to  the  belief!  Kant  truly  observes,  in  the  Preface  to  his  Eritii:,  “ Ad- 
mitting Idealism  to  be  as  dangerous  as  it  really  is,  it  would  still  remain  a 
shame  to  philosophy  and  reason  to  be  forced  to  ground  the  existence  of  an 
external  world  on  the  (mere)  evidence  of  belief.”  The  more  so  as  the  fact 
of  belief  had  never  been  questioned.  The  question  was.  Is  the  belief  well 
grounded  ? 


idealism:. 


565 


come  it ; but  singularly  wrong  in  supposing  that  the  presumption 
was  a refutation. 

Berkeley’s  main  position  is,  that  the  objects  of  knowledge  are 
ideas,  and  noiMnaJiut  ideas.  The  position  is  incontrovertible. 
The  conclusion  therefore,  all  human  knowledge  can  only  be  the 
knowledge  of  ideas,  and  of  nothing  but  ideas,  is  equally  incontest- 
able. Not  less  so  the  second  conclusion ; objects  being  identified 
with  ideas,  and  we  having  no  idea  of  an  object  but  as  it  is  per- 
ceived, the  ESSE  of  objects  to  us  is  percipi.  -f- 

In  admitting  all  this,  what  do  we  admit?  Simply  that  human 
knowledge  is  not  the  “ measure  of  all  things.”  Objects  to  us  can 
never  be  more  than  ideas ; but  are  we  the  final  measure  of  all 
existence  ? It  was  the  dogma  of  the  Sophist  that  Man  is  the 
measure  of  all  things.  It  should  not  be  the  dogma  of  the  sober 
thinker.  Because  we  can  only  know  objects  as  ideas,  is  it  a 
proper  conclusion  that  objects  only  exist  as  ideas?  For  this 
conclusion  to  be  rigorous,  we  must  have  some  proof  of  our  knowl- 
edge being  the  absolute  standard  of  truth,  instead  of  the  stand- 
ard of  the  relation  things  bear  to  our  intellect. 

The  Idealist  will  say,  “ If  you  cannot  know  any  thing  beyond 
your  ideas,  why  do  you  infer  that  there  is  any  thing  ? — A ques- 
tion not  easily  answered.  He  will  moreover  say,  “ I defy  you 
to  conceive  any  thing  existing  unperceived.  Attempt  to  imagine 
the  existence  of  matter  when  mind  is  absent.  You  cannot,  for 
in  the  very  act  of  imagining  it,  you  include  an  ideal  percipient. 
The  trees  and  mountains  you  imagine  to  exist  away  from  any 
perceiving  mind,  what  are  they  but  the  very  ideas  of  your  mind, 
which  you  transport  to  some  place  where  you  are  not  ? In  fact, 
to  separate  existence  from  perception  is  radically  impossible.  It 
is  God’s  synthesis,  and  man  cannot  undo  it.”* 

To  this  we  answer,  it  is  very  true  that,  inasmuch  as  our  knowl- 
edge of  objects  is  identical  with  our  ideas,  we  can  never,  by  any 


* See  this  argued  in  a masterly  manner  by  the  critic  in  Blackwood  before 
quoted. 


566 


BERKELEY. 


freak  of  thought,  imagine  an  object  apart  from  the  conditions 
under  which  we  know  it.  We  are  forced  by  the  laws  of  our  na- 
ture to  invest  objects  ■with  the  forms  in  which  we  perceive  them.* 
We  cannot  therefore  conceive  any  thing  which  has  not  been 
subject  to  the  laws  of  our  nature,  because  in  the  very  act  of  con- 
ception those  laws  come  into  play.  But  is  it  not  a very  difl'er- 
ent  proposition  to  say,  “I  cannot  conceive  things  otherwise  than 
according  to  the  laws  of  my  nature,”  and  to  say,  “ I cannot  con- 
ceive things  otherwise,  consequently  they  cannot  exist  otherwise?” 
The  Idealist  here  assumes  that  knowledge  is  absolute,  not  rela- 
tive— that  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things. 

Perception  is  the  identity  (in  the  metaphysical  sense  of  the 
word)  of  the  ego  and  the  non-ego — the  tertium  quid  of  two  uni- 
ted forces ; as  water  is  the  identity  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen. 
The  ego  can  never  have  any  knowledge  of  the  non-ego,  in  which 
it  (the  ego)  is  not  indissolubly  bound  up ; as  oxygen  never  can 
unite  with  hydrogen  to  form  water,  without  merging  itself  and 
the  hydrogen  in  a.  tertium  quid.  Let  us  suppose  the  oxygen 
endowed  with  a consciousness  of  its  changes.  It  would  attribute 
the  change  not  to  hydrogen,  which  is  necessarily  hidden  from  it, 
but  to  water.,  the  only  form  under  which  hydrogen  is  known  to 
it.  In  its  consciousness  it  would  find  the  state  named  water  (per- 
ception), which  would  be  very  unlike  its  own  state  (the  ego) ; 
and  it  would  suppose  that  this  state,  so  unlike  its  own,  was  a rep- 
resentation of  that  which  caused  it.  We  say  then,  that  although 
the  hydrogen  can  only  exist  for  the  oxygen  (in  the  above  case) 
in  the  identity  of  both  as  water,  this  is  no  proof  that  hydrogen 


*■  “ 'When  in  perception,”  says  Sohelling,  “ I represent  an  object,  object 
md  representation  are  one  and  the  same.  And  simply  in  this  our  inability  to 
discriminate  the  object  from  the  representation  during  the  act,  lies  the  con- 
viction which  the  common  sense  of  mankind  has  of  the  reality  of  external 
things,  although  these  become  known  to  it  only  through  the  representa- 
tions.” {Ideen  zu  einer  Philos,  der  Natur,  Einleitung,  p.  xix.,  quoted  by  Sir 
W.  Hamilton.)  This  is  indisputable,  but  it  is  only  saying  that  our  knowl- 
edge of  things  is  subject  tc  the  conditions  of  knowledge.  Because  cannot 
discriminate  between  the  object  and  the  representation,  it  is  no  proof  that 
there  is  no  distinction  between  them. 


IDEALISM. 


567 


does  not  exist  under  some  other  relations  to  other  forces.  In  like 
manner,  although  the  non-ego  cannot  exist  in  relation  to  mind 
otherwise  than  in  the  identity  of  the  two  (perception) ; this  is 
no  sort  of  proof  that  it  does  not  exist  in  relation  to  other  beings 
under  quite  different  conditions. 

In  cgnelusion;  we  admit,  with  the  Idealists,  that  all  our  hnowl- 
£c(2e^_q^cts  consists  in  our  ideas.  But  we  cannot  admit  that 
all  existence  is  limited  by  our  knowledge,  merely  on  the  ground 
that  when  we  would  conceive  any  thing  existing,  we  are  forced 
to  conceive  it  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  our  conceptive  fac- 
ulties. "W^e^adpiit)  tvith  the  Idealists,  that  all  our  knowledge  is 
su^ectim.  But  we  do  not  admit  that  what  is  true  subjectively,  is 
-trufi_X!bjectively.  Wc--believe  in  the  existence  of  an  external 
_wprld.  quite-independent  of  any  percipient ; not  because  such  is 
the  obvious  and  universal  belief,  but  because  the  arguinents  by 
which  Idealisiu-wuuld  controvert  it  are  vitiated  by  the  assump- 
tion of  knowledge  being  a criterion  of  all  existences.  Idealism 
agrees  with  Realism  in  placing  reliance  on  the  evidence  of  sense ; 
it  argues  however  that  inasmuch  as  our  hnoioledge  is  confined  to 
ideas,  we  have  no  right  to  assume  any  thing  beyond  ideas.  Yet 
it  also  is  forced  to  assume  something  as  the  cause  of  ideas : this 
cause  it  calls  the  Will  of  the  Creator;  and  this  is  an  assumption. 
The  real  dispute  therefore  should  be  concentrated  on  this  point : 
Which  assumption  is  more  consonant  with  our  irresistible  belief, 
— the  assumption  of  an  external^atter  unlike  our  sensations, 
yet,  the  causer  of -them;  or  the  assumption  of  a providential 
scheme,  in  which  our  sensations  are  the  eflects  of  the  operation 
of  Divine  laws,  and  in  which  matter  plays  no  part?  The  answer 
cannot  be  dubious.  The  former  assumption,  as  more  consonant 
with  universal  belief,  must  be  accepted. 

Berkeley,  we  believe,  failed  as  a metaphysical  Copernicus,  be- 
cause the  assumption  which  he  opposed  to  the  universal  belief 
was  less  consonant  with  that  belief  than  the  assumption  it  was 
meant  to  replace.  Had  Copernicus  not  started  an  hypothesis 
which,  however  contradictory  to  the  senses,  nevertheless  afforded 


568 


BERKELEY. 


a much  better  explanation  of  celestial  phenomena  than  was  pos- 
sible on  the  old  hypothesis,  he  would  not  have  been  listened  to. 
Berkeley’s  assumption,  if  conceded,  carries  him  no  deeper  than 
the  old  assumption.  Idealism  explains  nothing.  To  accept  it 
would  be  to  renounce  a universal  belief  for  a mere  hypothesis. 
But  that  Berkeley  was  a deep  and  remarkable  thinker  must  be 
readily  conceded;  and  he  failed,  as  the  greatest  Philosophers  of' 
all  times  have  failed,  not  because  he  was  weak,  but,because_Phi- 
losophy  was  impossible. 

Those  who  have  followed  the  course  of  this  History  with  at- 
tention to  its  moral  (so  to  speak)  will  not  fail  to  observe  how 
Berkeley’s  Idealism  is  at  bottom  but  the  much  decried  system  of 
Spinoza,  who  taught  that  there  was  but  one  essence  in  the  uni- 
verse, and  that  one  was  Substance.  Berkeley  also  taught  that 
there  was  but  one,  and  that  one  was  Thought.  Now  call  this 
One  what  you  will,  the  result  is  the  same ; speculatively  or  prac- 
tically. You  may  have  certain  degrading  associations  attached 
to  the  idea  of  substance  ; or  certain  exalted  associations  attached 
to  that  of  spirit.  But  what  difference  can  your  associations  make 
with  respect  to  the  real  nature  of  things? 

One  great  result  of  Berkeley’s  labors  was  the  lesson  he  taught 
of  the  vanity  of  ontological  speculations.  He  paved  the  way  to 
that  skepticism  which,  gulf-like,  yawns  as  the  terminal  road  of 
all  consistent  Metaphysics. 


• . -c  . -■  ; 


7 j 


FIFTH  EPOCH. 


THE  AEGUMENTS  OP  IDEALISM  CAKKIED  OUT  INTO 
SKEPTICISM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HUME. 

§ I.  Life  of  Hume. 

Mr.  Burton’s  ample  and  excellent  biography*  would  furnish 
TU  with  materials  for  a pleasant  memoir,  could  we  here  afford 
the  requisite  space ; but  we  must  content  ourselves  with  refer- 
ring the  reader  to  that  work,  and  with  merely  recording  the 
principal  dates  and  events  of  an  uneventful  life. 

David  Hume  was  born  at  Edinburgh,  26th  April,  1711;  the 
youngest  child  of  a poor  laird  of  good  blood.  He  was  an  orphan 
before  his  education  was  completed.  His  guardians  first  thought 
of  the  profession  of  law,  but,  owing  to  his  repugnance,  he  was 
absolved  from  that  career,  and  was  placed  in  a Bristol  counting- 
house,  where  he  did  not  remain  long.  On  coming  of  age  he 
found  himself  in  possession  of  a small  property,  too  small  for 
honorable  subsistence  in  England,  but  large  enough  for  France, 
and  to  Rheims  he  went ; from  thence  to  La  Fleche,  where  the 
Jesuits’  college  and  library  were  great  attractions  to  the  studious 
youth ; and  there  he  passed  several  years  in  solitary  study. 

* The  Life  and  Correspondence  of  David  Hume,  from  the  Papers  lequeathed 
to  the  Royal  Society  of  Edinburgh.  By  John  Hill  Burton.  2 vols. 


570 


HUME. 


A gi'eat  ambition  moved  bim  : be  was  to  accomplish  for  moral 
science  a revolution  analogous  to  that  wbicb  Bacon  bad  effected 
in  physical  science.  His  Treatise  on  Human  Nature,  which  ap- 
peared in  1737,  and  which  fell  still-born  from  the  press,  was  an- 
nounced as  an  attempt  to  introduce  the  experimental  method 
into  reasonings  on  moral  science.  We  need  scarcely  point  out 
the  profound  miseonception  of  the  Experimental  Method  here 
implied ; nor  is  it  necessary  to  show  at  any  length  that  there 
was  no  novelty  whatever  in  Hume’s  attempt  to  test  psychology 
by  experience. 

In  1741  appeared  the  first  part  of  his  immortal  Essays  ; and 
in  1747  he  accompanied  General  St.  Clair,  as  secretary,  in  the 
embassy  to  Vienna  and  Turin.  In  1752  he  published  his  Po- 
litical Discourses  and  the  Inquiry  concerning  the  Principles  of 
Morals.  The  appointment  of  Librarian  to  the  Faculty  of  Ad- 
vocates in  Edinburgh — the  salary  of  which  he  generously  gave 
to  the  poor  poet  Blacklock — placed  at  his  disposal  a fine  collec- 
tion of  books ; and  this  suggested  the  undertaking  which  has 
long  been  held  his  greatest  title  to  fame — the  History  of  Eng- 
land, the  first  volume  of  which  appeared  in  l7o4. 

For  the  literary  historian  there  are  two  piquant  episodes  in  the 
life  of  Hume.  The  first  is  the  ovation  given  to  the  philosopher 
in  Baris,  whither  he  had  accompanied  the  Marquis  of  Hertford  ; 
the  second  is  his  friendship  and  quarrel  with  Rousseau.  We 
cannot  pause  to  dwell  on  either. 

Hume  died  in  the  spring  of  1776,  leaving  a name  imperish- 
able in  our  literature,  although  it  is  a name  attached  to  opinions 
which  have  roused,  and  will  continue  to  rouse,  the  most  vehe- 
ment opposition.  It  should  never  be  forgotten,  moreover,  that, 
in  spite  of  Hume’s  opinions,  so  wise  and  good  a man  as  Adam 
Smith  could  publicly  write  of  him,  “ Upon  the  whole,  I have 
always  considered  him,  both  during  his  lifetime  and  since  his 
death,  as  approaching  as  nearly  to  the  idea  of  a perfectly  wise 
and  virtuous  man,  as  perhaps  the  nature  of  human  frailty  will 
permit.” 


hume’s  skepticism. 


571 


§ II.  Hume’s  Skepticism. 

The  marvellous  acuteness  and  subtlety  of  Hume  have  never 
been  denied ; and  his  influence  upon  speculation  has  been  aided 
as  much  by  the  alarm  his  doctrines  excited,  as  by  the  ingenuity 
with  which  they  were  upheld.  If  Berkeley  met  with  no  refu- 
ters,  Hume  could  meet  with  none.  Antagonists  have  generally 
been  compelled  to  admit  that  the  skeptical  reasoning  was  un 
answerable. 

Locke  had  shown  that  all  our  knowledge  was  dependent  upon 
experience.  Berkeley  had  shown  that  we  had  no  experience  of 
an  external  world  independent  of  perception ; nor  could  we  have 
any  such  experience.  He  pronounced  matter  to  be  a figment. 
Hume  took  up  the  line  where  Berkeley  had  cast  it,  and  flung  it 
once  more  into  the  deep  sea,  endeavoring  to  fathom  the  myste- 
ries of  being.  Probing  deeper  in  the  direction  Berkeley  had 
taken,  he  found  that  not  only  was  Matter  a figment,  Mind  was  a 
figment  also.  If  the  occult  substratum,  which  men  had  inferred 
to  explain  material  phenomena,  could  be  denied,  because  not 
founded  on  experience;  so  also,  said  Hume,  must  we  deny  the 
occult  substratum  (mind)  which  men  have  inferred  to  explain 
mental  phenomena.  All  that  we  have  any  experience  of,  is  im- 
pressions and  ideas.  The  substance  of  which  these  are  supposed 
to  be  impressions,  is  occult — is  a mere  inference  ; the  substance 
in  which  these  impressions  are  supposed  to  be,  is  equally  occult 
• — is  a mere  inference.  Matter  is  but  a collection  of  impressions. 
Mind  is  but  a succession  of  impressions  and  ideas.* 

Thus  was  Berkeley’s  dogmatic  Idealism  converted  into  Skep- 
ticism. Hume,  speaking  of  Berkeley,  says,  “Most  of  the  wri- 
tings of  that  very  ingenious  philosopher  form  the  best  lessons  of 
skepticism  which  are  to  be  found  either  among  the  ancient  or 

* Locke  had  already  shown  that  we  are  as  ignorant  of  spirit  as  of  sub- 
stance. We  know  mind  only  in  its  manifestation  ; we  cannot  know  it  per  s« 
as  a substratum.  Hume’s  argument  therefore  had  a firm  foundation  in  phi- 
losophy. He  only  concluded  from  admitted  premises. 


572 


HUME. 


modem  pbilos6phers,  Bayle  not  excepted.  He  professes,  how- 
ever, in  his  title-page  (and  undoubtedly  with  great  truth)  to 
have  composed  his  book  against  the  Skeptics,  as  well  as  against 
the  Atheists  and  Free-thinkers.  But  that  all  his  arguments, 
though  otherwise  intended,  are  in  reality  merely  skeptical,  ap- 
pears from  this,  that  they  admit  of  no  answer,  and  produce  no 
conviction.” 

Remark,  also,  that  Hume’s  skepticism,  though  it  reduces  phi- 
losophy to  a singular  dilemma,  viz.  that  of  either  refuting  the 
skeptical  arguments,  or  of  declaring  itself  and  its  pretensions  to 
be  vain  and  baseless,  nevertheless  affects  in  no  other  way  the  or- 
dinary judgments  or  actions  of  mankind.  Much  stupid  ridicule 
and  frivolous  objection  have  been,  and  probably  will  continue  tp 
be,  brought  against  Hume.  Reid,  from  whom  one  might  have 
expected  something  better,  is  surprised  at  Hume’s  pretending  to 
construct  a science  upon  human  nature,  “ when  the  intention  Oi 
the  whole  work  is  to  show  that  there  is  neither  human  nature 
noi  science  in  the  world.  It  may,  perhaps,  be  unreasonable  to 
complain  of  this  conduct  in  an  author  who  neither  believes  his 
own  existence  nor  that  of  his  reader ; and  therefore  could  not 
mean  to  disappoint  him,  or  laugh  at  his  credulity.  Yet  I can- 
not imagine  that  the  author  of  the  Treatise  on  Human  Nature 
is  so  skeptical  as  to  plead  this  apology.  He  believed,  against  his 
principles,  that  he  should  be  read,  and  that  he  should  retain  his 
personal  identity,  till  he  reaped  the  honor  and  reputation  justly 
due  to  his  metaphysical  acumen.”  He  continues  further  in  this 
strain,  dragging  in  the  old  error  about  Pyrrho  having  incon- 
sistently been  roused  to  anger  by  his  cook,  “ who  probably  had 
not  roasted  his  dinner  to  his  mind,”  and  compares  this  forgetful- 
ness to  Hume’s  every  “ now  and  then  relapsing  into  the  faith  ol 
the  vulgar.”* 

If  this  was  meant  for  banter,  it  was  very  poor  banter ; if  for 
argument,  it  was  pitiable.  But  if  such  arguments  appeared 


Inquiry,  Introd.  i.  § 5. 


hume’s  skepticism. 


573 


ralid  to  a thinker  of  Reid’s  reputation,  it  is  reasonable  to  sup 
pose  that  inferior  men  may  also  receive  them  as  conclusive, 
Hume  shall,  therefore,  be  allowed  to  speak  for  himself;  and  he 
shall  speak  in  the  language  of  that  very  Treatise  on  Human 
Nature  to  which  Reid  alludes  : 

“ Should  it  be  here  asked  me  whether  I sincerely  assent  to  this 
argument  which  I seem  to  take  such  pains  to  inculcate,  and 
whether  I be  really  one  of  those  skeptics  who  hold  that  all  is 
uncertain,  and  that  our  judgment  is  not  in  any  thing  possessed 
of  any  measures  of  truth  and  falsehood,  I should  reply  that  this 
question  is  entirely  superfluous,  and  that  neither  I nor  any  othei 
person  was  ever  sincerely  and  constantly  of  that  opinion.  Na- 
ture, by  an  absolute  and  uncontrollable  necessity,  has  determined 
us  to  judge  as  well  as  to  breathe  and  feel ; nor  can  we  any  more 
forbear  viewing  certain  objects  in  a stronger  and  fuller  light 
upon  account  of  their  customary  connection  with  a present  im- 
pression, than  we  can  hinder  ourselves  from  thinking  as  long  as 
we  are  awake,  or  seeing  the  surrounding  bodies  when  we  turn 
our  eyes  towards  them  in  broad  sunshine.  Whoever  has  taken 
the  pains  to  refute  the  cavils  of  this  total  skepticism,  has  really  dis- 
puted without  an  antagonist,  and  endeavored  by  arguments  to 
establish  a faculty  which  Nature  has  antecedently  implanted  in 
the  mind  and  rendered  unavoidable. 

“ My  intention,  then,  in  displaying  so  carefully  the  arguments 
of  that  fantastic  sect,  is  only  to  make  the  Reader  sensible  of  the 
truth  of  my  hypothesis,  that  all  our  reasonings  concerning  causes 
and  effects,  are  derived  from  nothing  but  custom ; and  that  be- 
lief is  more  properly  an  act  of  the  sensitive  than  of  the  cogitative 

part  of  our  natures If  belief  were  a simple  act  of  the 

thought,  without  any  peculiar  manner  of  conception,  or  the  ad-  » 
dition  of  force  and  vivacity,  it  must  infallibly  destroy  itself,  and 
in  every  case  terminate  in  a total  suspense  of  judgment.  But 
as  experience  will  suflflciently  convince  any  one,  that  although  he 
finds  no  error  in  my  arguments,  yet  he  still  continues  to  believe 
and  think  and  reason  as  usual,  he  may  safely  conclude  that  his 
39 


574 


HUME. 


reasoning  and  belief  is  some  sensation  or  peculiar  manner  of  con- 
ception, which  ’tis  impossible  for  mere  ideas  and  rellections  to 
destroy,”* 

It  has  always  struck  us  as  an  illustration  of  the  great  want  of 
candor  displayed  by  Hume’s  opponents,  that  they  never  quoted 
this  very  significant  and  explicit  passage ; indeed,  we  never  re- 
member to  have  seen  the  passage  quoted  by  any  one.  Let  us 
ask,  what  does  the  foregoing  declaration  amount  to,  if  not  to  the 
boasted  “ common-sense  view,”  that  our  belief  in  the  existence  of 
matter  is  instinctive,  fundamental  ? Does  not  Dr.  Brown’s  ad- 
mission that  the  skeptical  argument  is  unanswerable  as  a mere 
play  of  reasoning,  concede  all  that  Hume  requires  ? Does  not 
Dr.  Brown’s  conclusion,  that  we  are  thrown  upon  “ irresistible 
belief”  as  our  only  refuge  against  skepticism,  equally  accord 
with  Hume’s  explicit  declaration  that  we  do  believe  and  cannot 
help  believing,  though  we  can  give  no  reason  for  the  belief? 

“Thus  the  skeptic,”  Hume  adds  a little  further  on,  “still  con- 
tinues to  reason  and  believe,  even  though  he  asserts  that  he  can- 
not defend  his  reason  by  reason ; and  by  the  same  rule  he  must 
assent  to  the  principle  concerning  the  existence  of  body,  though 
he  cannot  pretend  by  any  arguments  of  philosophy  to  maintain 
its  veracity.  Nature  has  not  left  this  to  his  choice,  and  has 
doubtless  esteemed  it  an  affair  of  too  great  importance  to  be 
trusted  to  our  uncertain  reasonings  and  speculations.  We  may 
w'ell  ask,  what  causes  induce  us  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  body  ? 
but  ’tis  in  vain  to  ask  whether  there  be  body  or  not  ? that  is  a 
point  which  we  must  take  for  granted  in  all  our  reasonings.” 

After  this  let  no  more  be  said  about  Hume’s  practical  incon- 
sequences. Locke  before  him  had  clearly  enough  seen  and  sig- 
nalized the  impotenc'e  of  the  attempt  to  penetrate  beyond  phe- 
nomena, and  had,  with  his  usual  calm  wisdom,  counselled  men  to 
“ sit  down  in  quiet  ignorance.”  He  knew  the  task  was  hopeless ; 
he  knew,  also,  that  it  was  trivial.  God  has  given  us  the  means 


*■  Human  Nature,  part  iv.  § i.  p.  250. 


hume’s  skepticism. 


675 


of  knowing  all  that  directly  concerns  us,  a certainty  which  suf- 
fices for  all  our  wants.  With  that,  reasonable  men  will  be  con- 
tent. If  they  seek  more,  they  seek  the  impossible ; if  they  push 
their  speculations  deeper,  they  end  in  skepticism.  It  was  the 
philosophical  mission  of  Hume  (to  adopt  a phrase  in  vogue)  to 
show  how  inevitably  all  such  speculations,  if  consistent,  ended  in 
skepticism. 

“ ilen,”  he  says,  “ are  carried  by  a natural  instinct  or  prepos- 
session to  repose  faith  in  their  senses.  When  they  follow  this 
blind  and  powerful  instinct  of  nature,  they  always  suppose  the 
very  images  presented  to  the  senses  to  be  the  external  objects, 
and  never  entertain  any  suspicion  that  the  one  are  nothing  hut 
representatives  of  the  other.  But  this  universal  and  primary 
opinion  of  all  men  is  soon  destroyed  by  the  slightest  philosophy, 
which  teaches  us  that  nothing  can  ever  be  present  to  the  mind 
but  an  image  or  perception.  So  far,  then,  we  are  necessitated  by 
reasoning  to  contradict  the  primary  instincts  of  Nature,  and  to 
embrace  a new  system  with  regard  to  the  evidence  of  our  senses. 
But  here  philosophy  finds  herself  extremely  embarrassed,  when 
she  would  obviate  the  cavils  and  objections  of  the  skeptics.  She 
can  no  longer  plead  the  infallible  and  irresistible  instinct  of  na- 
ture, for  that  led  us  to  quite  a different  system,  which  is  ac- 
knowledged fallible,  and  even  erroneous;  and  to  justify  this  pre- 
tended philosophical  system  by  a chain  of  clear  and  convincing- 
argument,  or  even  any  appearance  of  argument,  exceeds  the 
power  of  all  human  capacity. 

“ Do  you  follow  the  instinct  and  propensities  of  nature  in  as- 
senting to  the  veracity  of  the  senses?  But  these  lead  you  to 
believe  that  the  'f&vj  perception  or  sensible  image  is  the  external 
object — (Idealism). 

“ Do  you  disclaim  this  principle  in  order  to  embrace  a more 
rational  opinion,  that  the  perceptions  are  only  representations  of 
something  external  ? You  here  depart  from  your  natural  pro- 
pensities and  more  obvious  sentiments ; and  yet  are  not  able  to 
satisfy  your  reason,  which  can  never  find  any  convincing  argu- 


576 


HUME. 


ment  from  experience  to  prove  that  the  perceptions  are  connected 
with  external  objects” — (Skepticism). 

This  is  the  dilemma  to  which  Philosophy  is  reduced : out  of 
it  there  is  no  escape ; and  Hume  deserves  the  gratitude  of  man- 
kind for  having  brought  philosophy  to  this  pass.  Mankind,  how- 
ever, has  paid  him  with  reprobation.  As  the  whole  course  of 
this  History  has  been  occupied  in  tracing  the  inevitable  result  of 
all  Philosophy  to  be  precisely  this  much  abused  skepticism,  our 
readers  will  be  prepared  for  a different  appreciation  of  Hume. 
Let  us,  therefore,  endeavor  to  define  the  nature  of  this  skepticism, 
which  has  caused  such  great  alarm.  Skepticism,  meaning  doubt, 
and  being  frequently  used  to  signify  religious  doubt,  has  alarm- 
ing associations  attached  to  it.  To  call  a man  a skeptic  is  to  call 
him  a heretic.  And,  unfortunately  for  Hume’s  philosophical 
reputation,  he  was  a skeptic  in  religion  as  well  as  in  philosophy, 
and  mankind  have  conseqirently  identified  the  former  with  the 
latter. 

Now,  philosophical  skepticism  can  only  mean  a doubt  as  to 
the  possibility  of  Philosophy  ; — in  other  words,  a doubt  only  on 
one  particular  subject.  If  I accept  the  consequences  to  which 
the  doctrine  of  Hume  leads  me,  am  I forced  to  suspend  my 
Tudgment,  and  to  pronounce  all  subjects  imcertain  ? or  am  I only 
to  pronounce  some  subjects  uncertain  ? The  latter  is  clearly  the 
only  opinion  I can  entertain.  What  then  are  the  questions  on 
which  I must  be  content  to  remain  in  darkness  ? Locke,  no  less 
than  Hume,  has  told  us  : All  which  relate  to  Philosophy — which 
irretend  to  discuss  the  nature  and  essences  of  things. 

This  skepticism,  the  reader  must  acknowledge,  has  nothing 
very  alarming  in  it,  except  to  Philosophy.  It  is  maintained  by 
the  vast  majority  of  thinking  men — some  from  conviction,  others 
from  a vague  sense  of  the  futility  of  ontological  speculation. 
Only  the  bad  passions  roused  in  discussion  could  pretend  to  con- 
found it  with  heresy.  This  Skepticism  indicates  the  boundaries 
of  inquiry.  It  leads  us  from  impossible  attempts  to  fly,  to  in- 
struct us  how  securely  we  may  run.  It  destroys  Philosophy 


hume’s  theobt  of  causation. 


577 


ouly  to  direct  all  our  energies  towards  positive  Science.  In  the 
words  of  Goethe,  “Let  us  not  attempt  to  demonstrate  what  can- 
not be  demonstrated ! Sooner  or  later  we  shall  otherwise  make 
our  miserable  deficiencies  more  glaring  to  posterity  by  our  so- 
called  works  of  knowledge.” 

Hume  was  a skeptic ; and,  consequently,  early  in  life  ceased 
devoting  his  marvellous  acuteness  to  any  of  the  questions  agi- 
tated in  the  schools.  His  Essays  and  his  History  were  excellent 
products  of  this  change  of  direction ; and  although  he  did  devote 
a portion  of  the  Essays  to  philosophy,  yet  it  was  but  a portion, 
and  one  which  gave  a more  popular  aud  elegant  exposition  of 
the  principles  of  his  first  work. 


§ HI.  Hume’s  Theory  of  Causation. 

It  is  customary  to  speak  of  “Hume’s  theory  of  Causation,” 
and  to  bestow  no  inconsiderable  acrimony  upon  him  on  its  ac- 
count. But,  in  the  first  place,  the  theory  is  not  peculiarly  his ; 
in  the  second  place,  his  application  of  it  to  the  question  of  Mir- 
acles, which  has  excited  so  much  vehement  controversy,  reduces 
itself  to  “ this  very  plain  and  harmless  proposition,  that  what- 
ever is  contradictory  to  a complete  induction  is  incredible.  That 
such  a maxim  as  this  should  be  either  accounted  a dangerous 
heresy,  or  mistaken  for  a recondite  truth,  speaks  ill  for  the  state 
of  philosophical  speculation  on  such  subjects.”* 

The  theory  may  be  thus  briefly  stated.  All  our  experience  of 
causation  is  simply  that  of  a constant  succession.  An  antece- 
dent followed  by  a sequent — one  event  followed  by  another : 
this  is  all  that  we  experience.  We  attribute  indeed  to  the  an- 
tecedent, a power  of  producing  or  causing  the  sequent ; but  we 
can  have  no  experience  of  such  a power.  If  we  believe  that  the 
fire  which  has  burned  us  will  burn  us  again,  we  believe  this  from 
habit  or  custom ; not  from  having  perceived  any  power  in  the 


Mill’s  System  of  Logic,  vol.  ii.  p.  183. 


578 


HUME. 


fire.  We  believe  the  future  will  resemble  the  past,  because  cus- 
tom has  taught  us  to  rely  upon  such  a resemblance.  “ When 
we  look  about  us  towards  external  objects,  and  consider  the 
operation  of  causes,  we  are  never  able  in  a single  instance  to 
discover  any  power  or  necessary  connection — any  quality  which 
binds  the  etfect  to  the  cause,  and  renders  the  one  an  inhrllible 
consequence  to  the  other.  We  only  find  that  the  one  does  ac- 
tually in  fact  follow  the  other.  The  impulse  of  one  billiard-ball 
is  attended  with  motion  in  the  second.  This  is  the  whole  that 
appears  to  the  outward  senses.  The  mind  feels  no  sentiment  or 
inward  impression  from  this  succession  of  objects;  consequently 
there  is  not,  in  any  single  instance  of  cause  and  effect,  any  thing 
which  can  suggest  the  idea  of  power  or  necessary  connection.”* 
This  is  the  whole  of  his  theory.  His  explanation  of  our  belief 
in  power,  or  necessary  connection,  is  that  it  is  a matter  of  habit. 

I know  not  whether  Hume  ever  read  Glanvill’s  Scepsis  Scien-  ' 
tifica.  The  title  was  one  to  attract  him.  At  any  rate,  Glanvill 
had  clearly  enough  stated  Hume’s  theory,  e,  g.  “ All  knowledge 
of  causes  is  deductive ; for  we  know  of  none  by  simple  intuition, 
but  through  the  mediation  of  their  effects.  So  that  we  cannot 
conclude  any  thing  to  be  the  cause  of  another  hut  from  its  con- 
tinually accompanying  it ; for  the  causality  itself  is  insensihle." 
Malebranche  had  also  anticipated  it ; and  so  had  Hobbes.  The 
language  indeed  of  the  latter  is  so  similar  to  the  language  em- 
ployed by  Hume,  that  I agree  with  Dugald  Stewart  in  believing 
Hume  to  have  borrowed  it  from  Hobbes.  “ What  we  call  ex- 
perience,” says  Hobbes,  “is  nothing  else  but  remembrance  of 
what  antecedents  have  been  followed  by  what  consequents.  . . 

No  man  can  have  in  his  mind  a conception  of  the  future,  for  the 
future  is  not  yet ; but  of  our  conceptions  of  the  past  we  make  a 
future,  or  rather  call  past  future  relatively.  Thus,  after  a man 
has  been  accustomed  to  see  like  antecedents  followed  by  like 
consequents,  whensoever  he  seeth  the  like  come  to  pass  to  any 


&says,  sect.  vii. 


HUME  S THEOET  OF  CAUSATION. 


579 


Aing  he  had  seen  before,  he  looks  there  shall  follow  it  the  same 
that  followed  then.” 

This  theory  of  Causation  has  been  hotly  debated,  partly  be- 
cause of  the  “ consequences”  which  some  have  seen,  with  alarm, 
to  be  deducible  from  it  (for  opinions  are  judged  of  more  by  their 
supposed  consequences  than  by  their  presumed  truth)  ; partly 
also  because  Hume  has  not  stated  it  with  the  clearness  which 
prevents  misunderstanding.  It  is  only  to  the  latter  point  we  can 
here  attend. 

When  Hume  asserts  that  experience  gives  no  intimation  of 
any  connection  between  two  events,  but  only  of  their  invariable 
conjunction, — when  he  says  that  the  mind  cannot  perceive  a 
causal  nexus,  but  only  an  invariableness  of  antecedence  and  se 
quence,  he  is  contradicted,  or  seems  to  be,  by  the  consciousness 
of  his  readers.  They  declare  that,  over  and  above  the  fact  of 
sequence,  there  is  always  an  intimation  of  poioer  given  in  every 
causation,  and  this  it  is  which  distinguishes  causal  from  casual 
sequence, — connection  from  mere  conjunction.  The  fire  burns 
paper  because  there  is  some  power  in  the  fire  to  effect  this 
change.  Mere  antecedence,  even  if  invariable,  cannot  be  suffi- 
cient, or  else  day  would  be  the  cause  of  night,  the  flash  of  light- 
ning would  be  the  cause  of  the  thunder-peal.  Swallows  fly  close 
to  the  earth  some  little  while  before  the  rain  falls  ; but  no  one 
supposes  the  flight  of  the  swallows  causes  the  fall  of  the  rain. 
In  every  case  of  causatiou  there  must  be  au  element  of  power — a 
pacity  of  producing  the  observed  change — a nexus  of  some  kind, 
over  and  above  the  mere  juxtaposition  of  bodies.  If  diamond 
will  cut  glass,  it  has  a power  to  do  so ; the  sharpest  knife  is  with- 
out this  power. 

So  reason  Hume’s  antagonists.  Nor  do  I think  they  are 
finally  answered  by  resolving  the  idea  of  power  into  mere  invari- 
ableness of  antecedent  and  sequent ; for  they  may  reply  that  the 
“ in  variableness”  itself  is  deduced  from  the  idea  of  power ; we  be- 
'ieve  the  fire  will  invariably  burn  the  paper  because  it  has  the 
power  to  do  so,  because  there  is  a real  nexus  between  fire  and 


580 


HUME. 


the  combustion  of  pnper  ; only  on  such  a belief  can  our  expecta- 
tion of  the  future  resembling  the  past  be  securely  founded. 

The  ordinary  belief  of  mankind  in  the  existence  of  something 
more  than  mere  antecedence  and  consequence,  is  therefore  a fact. 
This  fact  Hume  and  others  omit.  Because  they  cannot  perceive 
the  power,  they  declare  that  we  have  no  belief  in  it.  Hume  in- 
sists upon  the  impossibility  of  our  perceiving  power — of  our  per- 
ceiving any  necessary  connection  between  two  events.  But,  say 
those  who  oppose  this  theory,  “ Although  we  ca.xmoi  perceive  the 
power,  we  are  forced  to  believe  in  it ; and  this  belief  is  not  a mat- 
ter of  custom,  but  is  given  in  the  very  facts  of  consciousness. 
We  perceive  that  some  power  is  at  work  producing  effects  ; the 
precise  nature  of  this  power,  indeed,  we  cannot  perceive,  because 
we  never  can  know  things  per  se.  When  a spark  ignites  gun- 
powder, we  perceive  a power  in  the  spark  to  ignite  gunpowder  : 
what  that  power  is,  we  know  not ; we  only  know  its  effects.  But 
our  ignorance  is  equally  great  of  the  gunpowder : what  it  is  we 
know  not ; we  only  know  its  appearances  to  us.  It  might  as 
well  be  said  that  we  believe  in  the  gunpowder  from  custom 
(since  we  really  know  nothing  of  \\,per  se),  as  that  we  believe  in 
the  power  of  the  spark  to  ignite  gunpowder  from  custom,  since 
we  really  know  nothing  of  power  per  se.  We  know  nothing 
per  se." 

I have  marshalled  the  arguments,  with  as  much  force  as  I 
could  muster,  into  so  small  a field,  in  order  to  bring  into  appre- 
ciable distinctness  the  source  of  the  opposition  to  Hume’s  theory 
on  the  part  of  many  who  have  no  doctrinal  distrust  towards  it. 
Before  attempting  an  elucidation  of  the  difficulty,  it  will  be  need- 
ful to  consider  the  grounds  of  our  belief  in  causation.  As  it  is  a 
fact  that  all  men  believe  in  some  power  involved  in  every  causal 
act,  we  have  to  ask.  Is  that  belief  well  founded  ? 

Two  schools  at  once  present  themselves.  The  one  (that  of 
Hume)  declares  that  the  belief  has  no  good  grounds ; it  is  a 
matter  of  custom.  If  I believe  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow,  it  is 
because  it  has  always  risen.  If  I believe  that  fire  will  burn  ii. 


HUMES  THEORY  OF  CAUSATION. 


581 


future,  it  is  because  it  has  always  burned.  From  habit  I expect 
the  future  will  resemble  the  past : I have  no  proof  of  it. 

The  other  school  declares  that  this  belief  in  causation  “ is  an 
intuitive  conviction  that  the  future  will  resemble  the  past.”  This 
is  the  language  of  Eeid  and  Stewart.  Dr.  Whewell  would  have 
us  admit  the  belief  as  a fundamental  idea — a necessary  truth  in- 
dependent of  and  superior  to  all  experience. 

Both  explanations  we  take  to  be  very  incompetent.  Custom 
or  habit  can  essentially  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it,  be- 
cause our  belief  is  as  strong  from  a single  instance  as  from  a 
thousand.  “ When  many  uniform  instances  appear,”  says  Hume, 
“ and  the  same  object  is  always  followed  by  the  same  event,  we 
then  begin  to  entertain  the  notion  of  cause  and  connection.  We 
then  feel  a new  sentiment,  to  wit,  a customary  connection  in  the 
thought  between  one  object  and  its  usual  attendant ; and  this 
sentiment  is  the  original  of  that  idea  which  we  seek  for.”  This 
is  manifestly  wrong.  A single  instance  of  one  billiard-ball  mov- 
ing another,  suffices  to  originate  the  “sentiment,”  without  further 
repetition.  Nor  is  there  more  truth  in  the  assertion  that  the  be- 
lief depends  on  “ conviction  of  the  future  resembling  the  past 
this  explanation  assumes  that  the  general  idea  precedes  the  par- 
ticular idea.  If  we  believe  that  similar  effects  will  follow  when- 
ever the  same  causes  are  in  operation — if  we  believe  that  fire  will 
burn,  or  that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow — we  are  simply  believing 
in  our  experience^  and  nothing  more.  We  cannot  help  believing 
in  our  experience  ; that  is  irresistible  : but  iu  this  belief,  the  idea 
of  either  past  or  future  does  not  enter.  I do  not  believe  that 
fire  will  burn  because  I believe  that  the  future  will  resemble  the 
past,  but  simply  because  my  experience  of  fire  is  that  it  burns — 
that  it  has  the  power  to  burn.  Take  a simple  illustration,  trivial, 
if  you  will,  but  illustrative  ; — A child  is  presented  with  a bit  ot 
sugar ; the  sugar  is  white,  of  a certain  shape,  and  is  solid  ; his 
experience  of  the  sugar  is  confined  to  these  properties  : he  puts 
it  in  his  mouth  ; it  is  sweet,  pleasant : his  experience  is  extend- 
ed ; the  sugar  he  now  believes  (knows)  to  be  sweet  and  pleasant, 


582 


HUME. 


as  well  as  white  and  solid.^'  Thus  far  experience  is  not  tran- 
scended. Some  days  later,  another  piece  of  sugar  is  given  him. 
Is  it  now  necessary  for  him  to  have  any  “ intuitive  conviction 
that  the  future  will  resemWe  the  past” — any  fundamental  idea 
independent  of  experience — to  make  him  believe  that  if  he  puts 
the  sugar  in  his  mouth  it  will  taste  sweet  ? Not  in  the  least : 
he  believes  it  is  sweet,  because  he  knows  it  is  sweet — because 
his  experience  of  sugar  is  that  it  is  sweet.  By  no  effort  coidd 
he  divest  himself  of  the  idea  of  its  sweetness,  because  sweetness 
forms  an  integral  part  of  his  idea  of  the  sugar.  So  we  may  say 
of  the  sun’s  I’ising  : it  is  part  and  parcel  of  our  idea  of  the 
sun.  So  of  one  billiard-ball  putting  a second  in  motion  : our 
experience  of  billiard-balls  is  that  they  put  each  other  in  mo- 
tion. 

Custom  has  primarily  nothing  to  do  with  the  belief.  If  we 
had  only  one  experience  of  fire — if  we  saw  it  only  once  applied 
to  a combustible  substance — we  should  believe  that  it  would 
burn,  because  our  idea  of  fire  would  be  the  idea  of  a thing  which 
burns.  Custom  has  however,  secondarily^,  some  influence  in  cor- 
recting the  tendency  to  attribute  properties  to  things.  Thus,  a 
child  sees  a friend  who  gives  him  an  apple.  The  next  time  the 
friend  comes  he  is  asked  for  an  apple,  because  the  idea  of  this 
fiieud  is  of  a man  who,  amongst  other  properties,  has  that  of 
giving  apjiles.  No  apple  is  given,  and  this  idea  is  destroyed. 
Similarly,  when  all  our  experience  of  things  is  confirmatory  of 
our  first  experience,  we  may  say  that  habit  or  custom  induces  us 
to  attribute  certain  effects  to  certain  causes.  When  our  subse- 
quent experience  contradicts  our  first  experience,  we  cease  to  at- 
tribute those  effects  to  those  causes  which  we  first  experienced  ; 


* It  will  perhaps  seem  strange  that  we  should  select  sweetness  as  an  ex- 
ample of  causation.  We  selected  it  for  its  simplicity.  No  one  will  deny 
that  the  taste  of  sweetness  is  as  much  an  effect  caused  by  the  sugar  as  pam 
is  an  effect  caused  by  fire.  But  people  are  apt  to  overlook  that  causation  is 
the  result  of  the  properties  of  one  body  acting  upon  the  properties  of  an- 
other. They  would  call  sweetness  a quality  in  sugar  : but  the  motion  of  a 
billiard-ball  they  say  is  caused  by  another  ball. 


htjme’s  theory  of  causation.  588 

tLis  is  only  saying  that  our  subsequent  experience  has  destroyed 
or  altered  the  idea  we  formed  at  first. 

Remark  how  much  confusion  is  spread  over  this  subject  by 
the  inconsiderate  inti’oduction  of  the  word  belief.  It  is  incor- 
rect to  say  that  a man  believes  that  fire  will  burn  him  if  he  puts 
his  fiuger  in  it;  he  knows  it.  He  will  believe  that  it  has  burned 
some  one  else — he  will  believe  in  a proposition  you  make  about 
fire,  because  belief  is  the  assent  to  propositions : but  to  talk  of 
his  believing  that  sugar  will  be  sweet,  when  he  knows  it  is  sweet, 
when  he  cannot  think  of  it  otherwise  than  as  sweet ; or  that  fire 
will  burn  when  he  knows  it  burns,  is  as  improper  as  to  say  that 
he  believes  himself  cold  when  he  is  cold. 

Only  from  this  improper  use  of  the  word  belief  could  the 
theory  of  fundamental  ideas,  or  of  “ an  intuitive  conviction  that 
the  future  will  resemble  the  past,”  have  stood  its  ground  for  a 
moment.  If  the  proposition  “Fire  will  burn  paper”  were  put  to 
any  one,  he  would  unquestionably  believe  it,  because  he  has  no 
other  knowledge  of  the  fire  under  those  circumstances.  The 
proposition  is  as  evident  to  him  as  that  two  and  two  make  four. 
Although,  therefore,  he  may  be  said  to  believe  in  the  proposition, 
“ Fire  will  burn  paper,”  he  cannot  properly  be  said  to  act  upon 
belief  when  he  attempts  to  light  paper  : he  acts  upon  his  knowl- 
edge. Metaphysicians  argue  as  if  the  belief  in  the  immediate 
result  of  an  action  were  a belief  in  some  implied  proposition  about 
the  course  of  nature.  It  is  really  a reliance  upon  experience  ; 
nothing  more. 

It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  belief  in  existence,  and 
belief  in  propositions.  It  is  inaccurate  to  say  a man  believes  in 
his  own  existence,  as  if  that  were  similar  to  his  belief  in  a propo- 
sition. But  though  a man  cannot  believe  in  his  own  existence, 
simply  because  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  conceive  himself  as 
non-existent,  he  may  believe  that  he  will  exist  eternally,  because 
that  is  a proposition,  the  converse  of  which  is  conceivable  and 
maintainable. 

The  primordial  acl  of  all  thinking  whatever,  is,  as  I have  ex 


HUME. 


58-i 

plained  in  the  Introduction  to  this  History,  the  making  present 
to  the  mind  of  what  is  absent  from  the  sense ; and  this,  which 
connects  all  intellectual  phenomena  into  one  class,  renders  the 
accurate  demarcation  of  them  sometimes  impossible,  so  insensi- 
bly does  the  one  pass  into  the  other.  Thus  when  I say,  “I  see 
it  has  rained,”  because  the  wet  streets  make  me  infer  that  the 
wetness  w'as  caused  by  rain,  my  assertion  is  grounded  on  a men-, 
tal  re-presentation  of  the  absent  occurrence,  precisely  analogous 
to  that  which  takes  place  when  I infer  the  sweetness  of  the  sugar 
before  me,  or  perceive  that  the  flower  in  Julia’s  hair  is  a rose,  or 
believe  that  the  paper  she  holds  close  to  the  candle  will  infallibly 
ignite  if  paper  and  flame  come  in  contact.  In  each  case  the  in- 
ference, perception,  or  belief,  is  the  re-presentation  of  facts  form- 
erly present  in  my  experience  of  rain,  sugar,  roses,  and  candles. 
Whenever  I forget  any  of  the  attendant  facts,  i.  e.  fail  to  make 
them  present,  I can  only  form  an  incomplete  conception  of  the 
thing  about  which  I reason,  or  infer.  Bad  logic  is  imperfect  re- 
presentation. In  proportion  to  the  complexity  of  a proposition 
will  be  the  liability  to  eiTor,  because  of  the  liability  to  suffer 
some  of  the  attendant  ftrcts  to  drop  out  of  sight.  Thus  the  prop- 
osition “Fire  will  burn  paper”  is  so  simple,  and  accordant  with 
daily  experience,  that  assent  to  it  is  instantaneous  ; but  the  prop- 
osition “ Human  life  may  extend  over  two  centuries”  is  one  im- 
plying so  many  facts  which  cannot  be  made  present  to  the  mind, 
because  not  lying  within  familiar  experience,  that  instead  of  as- 
sent it  produces  denial,  or  at  least  doubt,  which  is  suspension  of 
belief,  which  again  is  the  confessed  inability  to  make  all  the  facts 
present  to  the  mind.  That  “two  and  two  make  four”  is  the  im- 
mediate and  irresistible  conclusion  of  every  educated  man  ; never- 
theless, this  very  man  would  pause  before  assenting  to  the  prop- 
osition “Eight  times  three  hundred  and  ninety-six,  make  three 
thousand  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight,”  because  he  would  have 
to  make  present  to  his  mind  the  successive  steps  of  the  calcula- 
tion, and  this  would  demand  an  effort,  great  in  proportion  to  hia 
want  of  familiarity  with  calculations. 


hume’s  theoky  of  causation. 


585 


In  spite  of  this  identity  of  belief  and  perception,  it  is  necessary 
for  the  perspicuity  of  discussion  to  discriminate  the  two,  and  I 
propose  therefore  to  restrict  the  term  belief  to  the  assent  to  prop- 
ositions, and  demarcate  it  from  those  direct  inferences  which 
are  made  in  the  presence  of  objects  and  have  reference  to  them. 
I would  say,  we  believe  in  the  proposition  “ Fire  burns,”  but 
know  the  fact  that  the  paper  about  to  be  thrust  into  flame  will 
ignite.  Such  a discrimination  of  terms  will  be  found  useful  in 
discussing  causation.  We  shall  thus  see  in  what  respect  assent 
to  a proposition,  complex  in  its  elements,  differs  from  the  “ prac- 
tical belief”  of  mankind  in  particular  facts— we  shall  separate 
the  belief  of  the  philosopher  in  the  proposition  “ Every  efiect 
must  have  a cause,”  from  the  belief  of  the  child  that  the  fire, 
which  yesterday  burned  paper,  will  burn  it  to-day.  Both  beliefs 
are  grounded  on  and  limited  by  experience ; but  the  experience 
of  the  philosopher  is  distinguished  from  that  of  the  child  by  its 
greater  accumulation  of  analogous  facts.  The  “necessity”  and 
“universality”  which,  according  to  Kant  and  Dr.  Whewell,  dis- 
tinguish the  philosophical  conception,  and  raise  it  above  experi- 
ence, will  he  considered  hereafter.  For  the  present  it  is  enough 
if  we  have  reduced  belief  in  causation  (or  in  power)  to  experience 
of  a direct  kind,  not  separable  from  any  other  intellectual  act, 
but  allied  to  all  other  acts  in  being  the  mental  re-presentation  of 
phenomena  formerly  present  in  experience.  And  this  will  help 
us,  perhaps,  to  reconcile  the  combatants  who  quarrel  over  the 
idea  of  “ power”  in  causation. 

Thus  while  it  will  be  admitted  by  the  one  party  that  between 
two  events,  named  respectively  cause  and  effect,  no  nexus  is  per- 
ceived by  us,  over  and  above  the  mere  fact  of  antecedence  and 
sequence  ; and  that  therefore  Hume  is  right  in  saying — we  only 
perceive  this  antecedence,  and  do  not  perceive  the  causal  link  ; 
on  the  other  hand  it  must  be  maintained,  that  between  those 
two  events  there  is  a specific  relation,  a something  which  makes 
the  one  succeed  the  other,  causing  this  particular  eflfect  rather 
than  another ; and  this  subtle  link  it  is  which  is  the  nexus  con- 


586 


HUME. 


tended  for ; this  relation  it  is  which  distinguishes  a casual  act 
from  one  of  accidental  sequence.  There,  must  be  a peculiar  rela- 
tion, or  property,  existing  between  oxygen  and  metals,  otherwise 
metals  never  could  be  oxidized.  The  oxidation  of  iron  is  an 
effect  like  the  ignition  of  paper ; but  it  is  an  effect  producible 
only  through  a specific  relation  or  cause.  To  say  that  we  can- 
not know  this  cause,  cannot  perceive  this  relation,  and  that 
antecedence  and  sequence  are  all  that  we  can  perceive,  is  only 
saying  that  we  cannot  penetrate  beyond  phenomena  and  their 
successions ; but  this  is  no  more  a ground  for  the  denial  of  a 
causal  nexus,  than  it  is  for  the  denial  of  an  external  world. 

All  things  necessai'ily  stand  related  to  all  other  things : some- 
times these  relations  are  obtruded  on  our  notice,  because  they 
pass  from  relations  of  coexistence  into  relations  of  succession,  and 
we  name  them  causes  and  effects ; at  other  times  they  remain  in 
the  background  of  unremarked  coexistence,  and  our  unsolicited 
attention  overlooks  them  ; we  do  not  then  name  them  cause  and 
effect.  The  carbonate  of  lime,  which  I see  before  me  as  marble, 
suggests  to  me  in  its  inaction,  no  conception  of  power,  or  caus- 
ation, because  my  attention  is  not  solicited  by  any  successive  re- 
lations; yet,  if  I had  witnessed  the  action  of  the  carbonic  acid 
on  the  lime,  which  originally  caused-  the  two  substances  to  unite 
and  form  marble,  the  passage  from  one  state  to  another  would 
have  suggested  the  idea  of  some  power  at  work.  It  is  clear  that 
there  must  be  relations  existing  between  the  carbonic  acid  and 
the  lime,  which  cause  the  two  to  remain  united,  as  we  see  them 
in  marble.  We  do  not  see  these  relations — we  do  not,  therefore, 
see  the  cause — but  we  know  the  cause  must  be  in  operation  all 
the  while,  although,  in  consequence  of  no  changes  taking  place, 
we  are  not  solicited  to  observe  the  operation.  Hence  it  is  that 
only  successive  phenomena  are  named  causal ; and  hence  is  it 
that  Hume  was  right  in  saying  that  en  dernim  analyse,  invari- 
ableness of  antecedence  and  sequence  is  all  that  experience  tells 
us  of  causation  ; although  he  did  not,  I think,  state  his  position 
clearly,  nor  discern  its  real  basis. 


hume’s  theory  of  cAuSxmoN.  587 

This  conception  of  causation,  as  the  direct  relation  between 
any  two  phenomena,  whether  coexistent  or  successive,  accords 
with  the  fact  that  what  is  called  the  effect  is  itself  but  the  union 
of  two  causes — the  oxygen  and  the  metal  co-operate  to  form  an 
oxide ; the  group  of  facts  which  we  designate  as  the  antecedent, 
combines  with  the  group  of  facts  called  the  sequent ; as  when  we 
say  that  “ Henry  I.  died  of  eating  lampreys by  which  we  mean, 
that  in  a certain  condition  of  his  organism  the  introduction  of 
lampreys  was  the  antecedent  to  a whole  series  of  sequences  ter- 
minating in  death ; although  we  are  perfectly  aware  that  the 
salmon  was  not  the  “ cause,”  but  only  one  integer  in  the  sum  of 
causes.  The  difficulty  in  fixing  upon  a true  cause  is  this  very 
complexity  of  relations : only  when  we  can  be  said  to  know  all 
the  elements  of  a group,  can  we  isolate  one  to  estimate  its  in- 
fluence. 

I have  endeavored  to  reconcile  the  two  contending  parties  on 
this  perplexing  question,  and  for  all  further  discussion  must  refer 
to  John  Mill’s  chapter  in  his  System  of  Logic,  where,  however, 
there  is  a passage  which  seems  to  me  quite  contrary  to  the  doc- 
trine he  upholds.  I allude  to  his  strictures  on  the  dogma  cessante 
causa  cessat  et  effectus.  “ A coup  de  soldi  giv^es  a man  a brain- 
fever  ; will  the  fever  go  off  as  soon  as  he  is  moved  out  of  the 
sunshine?  A sword  is  run  through  his  body:  must  the  sword 
remain  in  his  hody  in  order  that  he  may  continue  dead  V'* 
Surely  this  argument  is  tenable  only  by  those  who  confound  a 
cause  with  the  whole  group  of  conditions  which  precede,  and  the 
effect  with  the  whole  group  of  conditions  which  succeed ; and 
is  not  tenable  by  those  who  hold  that  cause  and  effect  are  simply 
antecedent  and  sequent.  The  solar  rays  striking  on  the  man’s 
head  produce  a disturbance  in  the  circulation,  which  in  its  turn 
becomes  the  antecedent  to  a congestion  of  the  blood-vessels  in  the 
brain,  which  becomes  a brain-fever ; instead  of  one  succession  of 
cause  and  effect,  we  have  here  a series  of  such  successions ; and 


* Vol.  i.  p.  413. 


5S8 


HUME. 


if  we  could  analyze  tlie  various  stages  of  the  sun-stroke,  we 
should  find  that  each  effect  did  cease  on  the  cessation  of  the 
cause ; indeed,  if  an  effect  be  nothing  hut  the  sequent  of  an  an- 
tecedent— and  not  the  product  of  some  creative  power  in  the 
cause — it  must  depend  for  its  existence  on  the  presence  of  the 
antecedent. 

Hume’s  theory  of  causation  set  Kant  speculating  on  the  con- 
stituent elements  of  cognition ; but  before  we  follow  out  the  de- 
velopment of  Philosophy  in  that  direction,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
trace  the  further  development  of  Locke’s  influence  in  other  di- 
rections. 


SIXTH  EPOCH. 


tUE  ORIGIN  OF  KNOWLEDGE  REFERRED  TO  SENSATION  BV 
THE  CONFUSION  OF  THOUGHT  WITH  FEELING:  THE  SEN- 
SATIONAL  SCHOOL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CONDILLAC. 

§ I.  Life  of  Condillac. 

Etienne  De  Condillac  was  born  at  Grenoble,  in  IVIS.  His 
life  was  passed  mainly  in  study,  and  was  not  varied  by  any  of 
those  incidents  which  give  interest  and  romance  to  biography. 
He  published  his  first  work,  Essai  sur  V Origine  dqs  Connoissances 
Eumaines,  in  1746.  Three  years  after,  his  Traite  des  Systemes. 
His  other  works  followed  rapidly;  and  established  for  him  such 
a reputation,  that  he  was  appointed  tutor  to  the  Prince  of  Parma, 
and  for  wfiose  instruction  he  wrote  the  Cours  d'Etudes,  In 
1768  the  capricious  doors  of  the  Academic  FranQaise  were 
opened  to  him  ; but  once  elected  a member,  he  never  after  at- 
tended any  of  its  sittings.  He  published  his  Logique  in  his  old 
age,  and  left  behind  him  his  Langue  des  Calculs.  He  died  in 
1780. 

§ II.  Condillac’s  System. 

We  have  seen  how  Idealism  and  skepticism  grew  out  of  the 
doctrines  respecting  the  origin  of  knowledge.  We  have  now  to 
see  the  growth  of  the  “ Sensational  School.” 

The  success  which  Locke  met  with  in  France  is  well  known. 

40 


590 


CONDILLAC. 


For  a whole  century  the  countrymen  of  Descartes  extolled  the 
English  philosopher,  little  suspecting  how  that  philosopher  would 
have  disclaimed  their  homage,  could  he  have  witnessed  it.  Con- 
dillac is  the  acknowledged  representative  of  Locke  in  France. 
When  his  first  work,  entitled  Essai  sur  V Origine  des  Connois- 
sances  Humaines,  appeared,  he  had  no  notion  of  simplifying 
Locke  by  reducing  all  Knowledge  tc  Sensation.  He  was  a 
modest  Locke'st,  and  laid  down  as  the  fundamental  principle, 
that  “ sensations  and  the  operations  of  the  mind  are  the  mate- 
rials of  all  our  knowledge — materials  which  reflection  sets  in  ac- 
tion by  seeking  their  combinations  and  relations.”  (Chap.  i.  § 5.) 

In  I’JSd  appeared  his  celebrated  work,  the  Traite  des  Sensa- 
tions. In  it  he  quits  Locke’s  principle  for  that  of  Gassendi  and 
Hobbes.  “ The  chief  object  of  this  work,”  he  says,  “ is  to  show 
how  all  our  knowledge  and  all  ouv  faculties  are  derived  from  the 
senses;  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  from  sensations.”  The  in- 
clusion of  “our  faculties,”  as  well  as  our  ideas,  in  this  sensuous 
origin,  is,  however,  due  entirely  to  Condillac.  Hobbes  never 
thought  of  such  a “simplification.”  The  divergence  from  Locke 
is  obvious  : instead  of  the  two  sources  of  ideas,  recognized  in  the 
Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  it  assumes  one  source  only — 
Sensation ; instead  of  mind,  with  certain  elementary  faculties,  it 
assumes  one  elementary  faculty — that  of  Sensibility — out  of 
which  all  the  faculties  are  evolved  by  the  action  of  external  ob- 
jects on  the  senses.  Nor  was  this  a mere  slip  of  Condillac’s  pen 
the  error  is  radical ; it  constitutes  the  peculiarity  of  his  system. 
Speaking  of  various  philosophers,  and  quoting,  with  praise,  the 
maxim  attributed  to  Aristotle,  that  “ Nothing  is  in  the  intellect 
which  was  not  previously  in  the  senses,”  he  adds,  “Immediately 
after  Aristotle  comes  Locke ; for  the  other  philosophers  who  have 
written  on  this  subject  are  not  worthy  of  mention.  This  Eng- 
lishman has  certainly  thrown  great  light  on  the  subject,  but  he 
has  left  some  obscurity.  , . . All  the  faculties  of  the  soul  ap- 
peared to  him  to  be  innate  qualities,  and  he  never  suspected  they 
might  be  derived  from  sensation  itself.” 


Condillac’s  system. 


691 


Certainly,  Locke  never  suspected  any  thing  of  the  kind,  and 
would  loudly  have  repudiated  it,  had  any  one  suggested  such  a 
simplification  of  the  psychological  problem.  He  might  have 
asked  Condillac,  why  is  it  no  Ape  haviug  the  five  senses  of  Man 
has  ever  yet  been  educated  as  a Man  ? and  if  faculties  are  noth- 
ing but  sensations,  why  are  the  faculties  of  the  Ape  so  remark- 
ably inferior,  when  the  senses,  some  of  them  at  least,  are  so 
remarkably  superior  to  those  of  Man  ? We  find,  on  the  one 
hand,  animals  having  senses  like  those  of  man,  but  not  having 
the  faculties  of  man ; we  find,  on  the  other  hand,  men  deficient 
in  certain  senses — sight,  hearing,  taste,  or  smell — who,  so  far 
from  being  deficient  in  mental  faculties,  are  remarkable  for  their 
high  endowments;  a striking  example  of  which  is  the  case  of 
Laura  Bridgman,  born  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb.  Nay,  among  men 
having  all  the  senses  in  activity,  we  find  the  greatest  disparities 
in  mental  faculty ; and  we  do  not  find  that  the  men  whose  sen- 
ses are  the  most  susceptible  and  active,  are  the  men  whose  intel- 
lectual faculties  are  the  most  developed ; which  is  strange,  if  the 
faculties  are  nothing  but  sensations.  How  does  Condillac  ex- 
plain the  familiar  fact  of  Idiots  being  in  full  possession  of  their 
senses  ? When  he  makes  his  famous  Statue  grow  into  an  Intel- 
ligence, by  the  gradual  evolution  of  one  sense  after  the  other,  it 
never  occurs  to  him  that  he  tacitly  admits  the  presence  of  the 
very  mind  which  is  said  to  be  evolved  ; since  in  the  absence  oi 
that  mind  the  senses  will  not  elevate  the  statue  one  inch  above 
diocy. 

Had  Condillac  been  surveying  the  animal  series,  and  endeavor- 
ing to  trace  the  gradual  development  of  Sensibility  throughout 
that  series,  he  might  have  maintained,  with  some  philosophical 
cogency,  that  the  various  faculties  were  the  derivative  products 
of  sensation.  But  he  had  no  such  conception.  He  looked  upon 
the  mind  as  a tabula  rasa,  a blank  page  on  which  sensations  wrote 
certain  characters;  and  instead  of  regarding  the  mind  in  the 
light  of  an  organism,  the  food  of  which  was  furnished  by  the 
senses,  he  regarded  it  as  a simple  granary,  in  which  the  gi'ain,  on 


592 


CONDILLAC. 


entering,  “transformed  itself”  into  bread,  oven,  and  baker.  He 
thought  the  senses  created  the  faculties  and  were  the  faculties. 
He  might  as  well  have  said  that  exercise  creates  the  faculty  of 
running.  The  child  cannot  run  till  he  has  exercised  his  limbs ; 
but  the  exercise  does  not  give  him  the  limbs,  it  only  calls  them 
into  action. 

Condillac  is  right  in  saying  that  we  are  not  born  with  the 
mental  faculties  developed  (a  point  to  be  touched  upon  here- 
after), but  he  is  wrong  in  saying  that  these  faculties  are  only 
sensations.  And  when  he  endeavored  to  construct  the  mind  and 
its  faculties  out  of  transformed  sensations,  he  never  once  sus- 
pected that  the  faculty  of  transformation — that  which  transforms 
— could  not  be  itself  a sensation.  It  is  very  easy  to  imagine 
transformed  sensations ; but  the  sensations  do  not,  we  presume, 
transform  themselves.  What  is  it  that  transforms  them  ? The 
mind?  Not  so.  The  mind  is  the  aggregate  of  our  mental 
states,  faculties,  etc. ; the  mind  is  made  up  of  “ transformed  sen- 
sations,” and  cannot,  therefore,  be  the  transforming  power.  We 
return  to  the  charge,  and  demand.  What  is  it  which  trans- 
forms? Condillac  has  no  answer.  All  he  can  say  is,  what  he 
says  over  and  over  again,  that  our  faculties  are  transformed  sen- 
sations. Hear  him : 

“ Locke  distinguishes  two  sources  of  ideas,  sense  and  reflection. 
It  would  be  more  exact  to  recognize  but  one ; first,  because  re- 
flection is,  in  its  principle,  nothing  but  sensation  itself ; secondly, 
because  it  is  less  a source  of  ideas  than  a canal  through  which 
they  flow  from  sense. 

“ This  inexactitude,  slight  as  it  may  seem,  has  thrown  much 
obscurity  over  his  system.  He  contents  himself  with  recognizing 
that  the  soul  perceives,  thinks,  doubts,  believes,  reasons,  wills, 
reflects;  that  we  are  convinced  of  the  existence  of  these  opera- 
tions, because  we  find  them  in  ourselves,  and  they  contribute  to 
the  progress  of  our  knowledge ; but  he  did  not  perceive  the  ne- 
cessity of  discovering  their  origin  and  the  principle  of  their  gen- 
eration— he  did  not  suspect  that  they  might  only  be  acquired 


Condillac’s  system. 


593 


habits ; he  seems  to  have  regarded  them  as  innate,  and  he  says 
only  that  they  may  be  perfected  by  exercise.”* 

This  is  far  enough  from  Locke, f who  would  have  been  amazed 
to  hear  that  “judgment,  reflection,  the  passions,_in  a word,  all 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  are  nothing  but  sensation  which  trans- 
forms itself  differently  (qui  se  transforme  diflferemment).” 

As  it  is  curious  to  see  how  sensation  transforms  itself  into  these 
faculties,  we  will  translate  Condillac’s  account.  “If  a multitude 
of  sensations  operate  at  the  same  time  with  the  same  degree  of 
vivacity,  or  nearly  so,  man  is  then  only  an  animal  that  feels ; ex- 
perience suSices  to  convince  us  that  then  the  multitude  of  im- 
pressions takes  away  all  activity  from  the  mind.  But  let  only 
one  sensation  subsist,  or  without  entirely  dismissing  the  others, 
let  us  only  diminish  their  force ; the  mind  is  at  once  occupied 
more  particularly  with  the  sensation  which  preserves  its  vivacity, 
and  that  sensation  becomes  attention,  without  its  being  necessary 
for  us  to  suppose  any  thing  else  in  the  mind.  If  a new  sensation 
acquire  greater  vivacity  than  the  former,  it  will  become  in  its 
turn  attention.  But  the  greater  the  force  which  the  former  had, 
the  deeper  the  impression  made  on  us,  and  the  longer  it  is  pre- 
served. Experience  proves  this.  Our  capacity  of  sensation  is 
therefore  divided  into  the  sensation  we  have  had,  and  the  sensa- 
tion which  we  now  have ; we  perceive  them  both  at  once,  but 
we  perceive  them  differently : the  one  seems  as  past,  the  other 
as  present.  The  name  of  sensation  designates  the  impression 
actually  made  upon  our  senses ; and  it  takes  that  of  memory 
when  it  presents  itself  to  us  as  a sensation  which  has  formerly 
been  felt.  Memory,  therefore,  is  only  the  transformed  sensation. 
When  there  is  double  attention,  there  is  comparison ; for  to  be 

* Extrait  raissonnedu  TraiU  des  Sensations  ; (Euvres  de  Condillac  (1803), 
iv.  13. 

t It  would  be  idle  to  refute  here  the  vulgar  notion  that  Condillac  perfected 
l.ocke’s  principles;  or,  as  M.  Cousin  absurdly  says,  that  Locke’s  Essay^s.% 
the  rough  sketch  (ebauche)  of  which  the  TraiU  des  Sensations  is  the  per- 
fected picture  ; such  a notion  can  he  entertained  only  by'  those  who  blindly 
accept  traditionary  judgments.  The  brief  exposition  we  shall  give  of  Con- 
dillac is  a sufficient  answer  to  all  such  assertions. 


59i 


CONDILLAC, 


attentive  to  two  ideas  or  to  compare  them,  is  the  same  thing 
But  we  cannot  compare  them  without  perceiving  some  difference 
or  some  resemblance  between  them ; to  perceive  such  relations, 
is  to  judge.  The  acts  of  comparing  and  judging  are  therefore 
only  attention ; it  is  thus  that  sensation  becomes  successively  at- 
tention, comparison,  judgment.” 

The  other  faculties  are  explained  in  a similar  way,  but  we 
need  quote  no  more.  That  such  a system  should  ever  have  at- 
tained the  favor  it  did,  is  a striking  example  of  the  facility  with 
which  men  may  be  misled  by  an  artful  use  of  words, 

Condillac  said  that  science  is  only  a well-constructed  language 
(une  langue  Men  faite) ; so  much  did  he  rely  upon  precision  in 
words.  Nor  is  this  inexplicable  in  a man  who  fancied  he  had  re- 
duced the  analysis  of  mind  to  its  simplest  elements  by  merely 
naming  them  differently.  It  is,  however,  as  absurd  to  call  ideas 
sensations  because  the  ideas  were  originated  by  sensations,  as  it 
would  be  to  call  reasoning  observation,  because  reasoning  is 
founded  on  observation.  The  only  excuse  for  the  error  is  in  the 
common,  but  false,  supposition  that  ideas  are  faint  impressions. 
They  are  not  impressions  at  all.  Condillac  says  that  an  idea  is 
a remembered  sensation,  and  this  remembrance  is  only  a lesser 
degree  of  vivacity  in  the  sensation.  We  answer  that  the  idea  is 
nothing  of  the  kind ; so  far  from  being  the  sensation  in  a lesser 
degree,  it  is  not  the  sensation  at  all ; it  is  altogether  different 
from  the  sensation.  Although  every  mau  who  has  experienced 
toothache,  can  have  a very  distinct  idea  of  it  (in  other  words,  he 
can  think  of,  and  talk  of  toothache),  we  defy  him  to  detect  in 
his  idea  any  repetition  of  the  sensation.  Nor  is  this  wonderfnl ; 
sensation  is  the  product  of  a distinct  part  of  the  nervous  system, 
the  senses;  ideas  are  the  product  of  another  distinct  part  of 
the  nervous  system,  the  cerebrum : sensation  is  feeling,  thought 
is  thinking.  To  suppose  feeling  and  thinking  are  the  same  (al- 
though both  may  come  under  the  term  feeling,  by  giving  the 
word  some  new  general  signification),  is  an  absurdity  reserved 
for  the  Sensational  School,  the  last  and  not  the  least  illustrious 


Condillac’s  system. 


595 


of  whom,  M.  Destutt  de  Tracy,  consolidated  it  into  an  aphorism  : 
penser  c'est  sentir. 

The  ambiguities  of  language  have  in  this  case  been  assisted 
by  the  nature  of  our  sensations.  Thus  all  our  visual  ideas,  inas- 
much as  they  assume  shape,  do  seem  like  faint  sensations ; iLe 
reason  is,  that  although  it  is  a very  different  thing  to  look  at  tho 
sun  and  to  think  of  it,  yet  in  thinking,  our  idea  corresponds,  in 
some  measure,  with  our  sensation  : the  idea  is  of  a round,  yellow, 
luminous  body,  and  is  not  improperly  called  an  image  of  the  sun. 
If  it  is  an  image  of  the  sun,  we  easily  conclude  that  it  is  a faint 
copy  of  our  sensation.  But  in  the  case  of  other  senses,  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  detecting  the  error.  When  we  say  that  we  can 
recall  the  sensation  of  hunger,  we  verbally  confound  our  power  of 
thinking  a thing,  with  our  power  of  feeling  it.  There  is,  in  truth, 
a generic  distinction  between  Thought  and  Sensation,  ■which  it 
is  fatal  to  overlook ; nor  could  it  have  been  overlooked  but  for 
the  introduction  and  adoption  of  that  much-abused  word  “idea,” 
instead  of  thought. 

I do  not  believe  we  can  recover  any  sensation  at  all,  but  only 
the  ideal  effect  of  the  sensation.  Mr.  Bain,  who  of  all  psychol- 
ogists, as  it  appears  to  me,  has  approached  nearest  to  the  truth, 
here  remarks,  that  the  “ exact  tone  of  feeling,  the  precise  inward 
sensation  due  to  a state  of  hunger,  is  almost  irrecoverable  and 
unimaginable  in  a state  of  comfortable  repletion.”  I believe  it 
to  be  utterly  irrecoverable.  “But,”  he  adds,  “the  uneasy  move- 
ments, the  fretful  tones,  the  language  of  complaint,  are  all  easy 
to  recall ; they  belong  to  the  more  intellectual  part  of  the  sys- 
tem ; and  by  these  we  can  recover  some  portion  of  the  total  fact, 
which  is  also  just  about  as  much  as  we  can  communicate  to  a 
second  person.  The  digestive  state  for  the  time  being,  rules  the 
tone  of  sensation  so  effectually,  that  we  cannot,  by  any  effort, 
restore  the  currents  due  to  an  entirely  opposite  state ; we  can 
only  recover  the  more  revivable  accompaniments.”*  The  reason 


The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  337. 


596 


CONDILLAC. 


of  this  I take  to  be  simply  the  impossibility  of  displacing  a sen 
sation  (e.  g.  that  of  repletion)  by  an  idea.  The  sensation  of  hun- 
ger was  due  to  a peculiar  stimulus  of  the  nervous  system ; so 
long  as  that  stimulus  was  present,  the  sensation  was  present ; 
when  another  stimulus  replaced  it,  another  sensation  succeeded, 
and  in  the  presence  of  that  stimulus  no  other  sensation  is  recov- 
erable. The  “revivable  accompaniments”  were  not  sensations, 
but  the  sequences  of  sensations,  ideal  elements.  When  Mr.  Bain 
contrasts  the  sense  of  sight  with  the  sense  of  hunger,  and  says 
“that  we  can  recover  a picture  or  vision  of  fancy  almost  as  ex- 
actly as  we  saw  it,  though  not  so  strongly,”  and  thinks  that  this 
gives  to  the  sense  of  sight  its  “ intellectual  character,”  he  appears 
to  me  to  overlook  the  generic  distinction  between  Sensation  and 
Thought,  a distinction  which  Condillac  and  his  school  systemat- 
ically set  aside.  “ We  can  repossess  ourselves,”  he  adds,  “of  the 
exact  scene  as  it  laj^  to  the  eye ; in  fact  the  sensation  itself  is  the 
most  retainable  part  of  the  whole^'  I cannot  but  think  that,  if 
Mr.  Bain  will  reconsider  this  statement,  he  will  admit  that  the 
sensation  itself  is  precisely  the  part  which  is  not  I'etainable,  not 
recoverable ; for  although  the  image  of  the  landscape  beheld  in 
memory  is  like  the  actual  scene  which  we  gazed  upon — or,  in 
more  accurate  language,  although  we  are  similarly  affected  by 
the  remembrance  as  by  the  original  stimulus— yet  a psychologist 
of  Mr.  Bain’s  rank  does  not  need  to  be  told  that  the  landscape 
in  perception  is  constituted  by  a variety  of  intellectual  inferences 
— all  its  relations  of  space,  form,  solidity,  etc.,  being  purely  in- 
tellectual elements,  and  these  only  are  the  elements  present  in 
the  remembrance,  the  actual  sensations  not  being  present  at  all. 
What  therefore  is  recoverable,  is  the  purely  intellectual  part  of 
the  whole ; what  is  irrecoverable,  the  sensational ; precisely  as 
in  the  case  of  hunger ; we  can  recall  the  effects  of  hunger,  even 
when  quietly  digesting  dinner,  but  we  cannot  recall  the  sensation 
of  hunger. 

The  point  in  dispute  is  so  important,  and  is  so  intimately 
bound  up  with  the  whole  doctrine  of  the  Sensational  Schcol, 


Condillac’s  system. 


597 


forming  indeed  the  battle-ground  of  all  psychological  doctrine, 
that  we  must  consider  it  with  more  than  a passing  attention. 
The  confusion  of  Sensation  with  Ideation,  or  Thought,  is  Con- 
dillac’s systematic  error ; but  it  is  an  error  from  which  few,  if 
any  writers,  even  of  the  spiritualist  schools,  have  been  free.  Ex- 
plicitly, or  implicitly,  these  two  phenomena  have  been  regarded 
as  two  aspects  of  the  same  thing.  The  rigorous  demarcation  of 
Sensation  as  one  process,  from  Ideation  as  another  process, — 
each  dependent  on  its  separate  nervous  centre, — will  be  found  in 
no  psychological  treatise.  Nevertheless,  Comparative  Anatomy 
has  succeeded  in  demonstrating  the  independence  of  the  organs 
of  Sense,  and  the  Brain-proper  ; although  no  one  has  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  detecting  the  true  relations  which  connect  these  inde- 
pendent centres,  and  make  them  act  together.  We  know  that 
the  brain  is  as  much  an  addition  to  the  organs  of  Sense  as  these 
organs  are  additions  to  the  nervous  system  of  the  simpler  ani- 
mals. Low  down  in  the  animal  scale  we  can  detect  no  trace  at 
all  of  a nervous  system  ; ascending  a few  steps,  we  detect  a sim-. 
pie  ganglion  with  its  prolongations  ; ascending  higher,  we  detect 
a more  complex  arrangement  of  ganglia,  and  rudimentary  organs 
of  Sense ; ascending  still  higher  and  higher,  we  detect  more 
complex  organs  of  Sense,  and  a rudimentary  Brain  ; till  at  last 
we  arrive  at  man,  with  his  complex  organs  and  his  complex 
Brain.  But  so  independent  is  the  Brain,  that  even  in  the 
human  species  cases  occur  of  “ anencephalous  monsters,”  that 
is  to  say,  children  born  without  any  Brain  whatever;  and 
these  children  breathe,  suck,  cry,  and  struggle,  like  other 
children. 

Further,  it  is  ascertained  that  the  function  of  this  Brain  (or 
Cerebrum)  is  Thought — or,  as  James  Mill,  with  a nice  sense  of 
utility,  proposed  to  call  it,  Ideation.  Granting  this,  we  grant 
that  the  functions  Sensation  and  Ideation  are  as  independent  as 
the  organs  of  which  they  are  the  functions ; and  although  Idea- 
tion is  organically  connected  with  Sensation,  yet  not  more  so 
than  muscular  motion  is  connected  with  Sensation.  Neither  the 


59S 


CONDILLAC. 


anatomical  nor  the  psychological  connections  of  the  two  havo 
been  accurately  discriminated,  but  the  broad  fact  of  their  inde- 
pendence suffices  for  ray  present  argument ; which  is  merely  to 
establish  the  position  that  the  organs  of  Sense  are  competent 
to  Sensation,  without  the  addition  of  a Brain  ; and  that  the 
Brain,  although  constantly  set  into  action  by  the  organs  of 
Sense,  is  in  itself  a separate  centre,  and  the  seat  of  specific 
actions.* 

It  is  customary  to  speak  of  the  organs  of  Sense  as  if  they  were 
simple  organs  ; we  must  not  therefore  innovate  in  this  matter, 
although  we  find  it  needful  to  remind  the  reader  that  each  spe- 
cial sense  is  really  the  function  of  a complex  apparatus  of  organs. 
The  apparatus  of  Sight,  for  example,  may  be  separated  into  at 
least  three  parts  : — 1st,  for  the  reception  of  impressions  of  light ; 
2d,  for  the  transmission  of  those  impressions ; 3d,  for  the  sensa- 
tion. Of  these  the  last  need  only  here  be  specially  considered, 
and  may  be  called  the  Sensational  Centre.\  In  this  centre  the 
external  stimulus  becomes  a sensation  ; from  this  centre  the  sen- 
sation is  generally  (not  always)  propagated  to  the  cerebrum, 
which  in  turn  may  propagate  the  influence  to  the  centre  of  mus- 
cular motion,  or  elsewhere. 

Ev'ery  sense,  whether  it  be  one  of  the  five  special  senses,  or  of 
the  so-called  “organic  senses”  (such  as  those  of  the  alimentary 
canal  or  of  muscular  activity),  has  its  own  special  centre,  or  sen- 
sorium  ; but  there  seems  to  be  no  ground  for  assuming,  wdth 
Unzer  and  Prochaska,  the  existence  of  any  one  general  sensori- 
um,  to  which  these  all  converge  ; and  I shall  speak  therefore  of 
the  Sensational  Centres  as  the  seats  of  sensations  derived  from 


* See  this  point  illustrated  in  detail  by  Unzer  and  Proehaska,  in  their 
treatises  translated  for  the  Ray  Society  by  Dr.  Laycook. 

t I would  call  it  sensory  ganglion,  if  that  did  not  presuppose  the  existence 
of  a distinct  ganglion,  anatomically  separable  in  the  higher  animals,  as  it  is 
in  those  lower  animals  which  have  nothing  but  sensory  ganglia.  At  present, 
however,  science  does  not  warrant  such  a statement  otherwise  than  as  an 
hypothesis.  Besides,  I indude  the  spinal  chord  among  the  general  Sens.v 
tional  Centres.  Compare  Prochaska,  p.  430. 


Condillac’s  system. 


599 


the  stimuli  which  act  on  the  organs  of  sense.  Considered  as 
Sensational  Centres,  they  are  perfectly  independent  of  the  Brain  ; 
they  may  and  do  act  without  implicating  the  Brain,  for  they  will 
act  when  the  Brain  is  absent ; a bird  deprived  of  its  cerebrum 
manifests  unequivocal  symptoms  of  being  sensitive  to  light,  sound, 
etc.  But  in  the  normal  state  of  the  organism  these  centres  are 
intimately  connected  with  the  Brain  ; and  the  stimuli  which 
affect  them  directly,  indirectly  affect  the  Brain.  Light,  imping- 
ing on  the  retina,  determines  a change  in  the  optic  Sensational 
Centre  ; this  change  is  usually  propagated  to  the  cerebrum  ; and 
as  the  first  change  was  a sensation,  so  is  the  second  an  idea  ; this 
idea  may  excite  other  ideas,  or  it  may  be  so  faint  in  its  influence 
as  to  be  almost  immediately  absorbed,  and  then  we  are  said  to 
be  “ scarcely  conscious”  of  the  sensation — meaning  that  we 
thought  very  little  about  it : an  example  of  which  is  the  little 
attention  we  pay  to  the  clock  striking  when  we  are  engaged  in 
study,  if  the  fact  is  indifferent  to  us  ; we  hear  it,  but  think  not 
of  it  the  next  moment ; if  on  the  other  hand  the  striking  of  the 
clock  is  not  indifferent  to  us,  the  various  thoughts  which  it 
awakens  make  us  eminently  “ conscious  of  the  sensation.”  In 
the  heat  of  battle,  a sword  passes  through  a man’s  arm,  and 
nevertheless  the  wound  is  followed  by  no  pain  or  “ conscious- 
ness the  stimulus  which  under  ordinary  circumstances  would 
have  been  propagated  fi-om  a Sensational  Centre,  and  thence 
radiating  to  the  cerebrum,  would  have  roused  up  manifold  ideas, 
namely,  of  consequences,  what  was  necessary  to  be  done,  etc.,  is 
prevented  from  so  radiating,  and  is  not  carried  beyond  the  Sen- 
sational Centre. 

Not  only  can  we  have  sensations  without  being  conscious  ot 
them — i.  e.  without  thinking  about  them  ; we  can  also  think  with 
perfect  freedom  when  all  the  Sensational  Centres  (except  those 
of  organic  life)  are  unaffected  by  any  stimulus,  i.  e.  when  we  have 
no  sensations.  We  do  so  when  awake  in  bed  during  the  stillness 
of  night ; the  senses  are  in  repose,  the  Brain  is  active. 

Thus  is  the  independence  of  Ideation  and  Sensation  proved 


600 


CONDILLAC. 


psychologically  and  anatomically  ; and  with  this  proof  we  de- 
stroy the  basis  of  Condillac’s  doctrine.  But  even  on  purely 
metaphysical  grounds  we  may  reject  his  theory  of  the  origin  o< 
knowledge.  It  rests  on  two  positions  ; — the  first  is  the  reduction 
of  all  knowledge  to  sensation  ; the  second  is  the  dogma  of  oui 
fiiculties  not  being  innate.  The  first  is  the  doctrine  of  Gassend/ 
and  Hobbes.  It  is  thus  stated  by  Diderot,  one  of  Condillac’s  i 
most  celebrated  pupils : — “ Every  idea  must  necessarily,  when 
brought  to  its  state  of  ultimate  decomposition,  resolve  itself  into 
a sensible  representation  or  picture  ; and  since  every  thing  in 
our  understanding  has  been  introduced  there  by  the  channel  of 
sensation,  whatever  proceeds  out  of  the  understanding  is  either 
chimerical  or  must  be  able,  in  returning  by  the  same  road,  to  re- 
establish itself  according  to  its  sensible  archetype.  Hence  an 
important  rule  in  philosophy.  That  every  expression  which  can- 
not find  an  external  and  a sensible  object  to  which  it  can  thus 
establish  its  affinity,  is  destitute  of  signification.”* 

Those  who  maintain  sensuous  experience  to  be  the  basis  of  all 
knowledge,  will  of  course  assent  to  the  position  that  every  one 
of  our  ideas  can  be  decomposed  into  sensuous  elements ; but 
ideas  themselves  are  not  sensations,  they  are  formed  from  sensa- 
tions, and  are  not  sensible  pictures.  The  least  experience  is  suf- 
ficient to  convince  us  that  we  have  many  ideas  which  cannot  be 
reduced  to  any  sensible  picture  whatever ; or,  to  prevent  any  of 
the  ambiguity  which  belongs  to  the  word  “ idea,”  let  us  rather 
say  we  have  many  thoughts  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  any 
sensible  picture.  We  can  think  of  a sound  without  any  power 
of  forming  a picture  of  sound  ; we  can  think  of  virtue  or  good- 
ness, of  patriotism  or  scoundrelism,  without  being  able  to  form 
mental  pictures  of  these  ideas. 

Now  for  the  second  point ; Condillac,  we  believe,  was  the  first 
to  catch  a glimpse  of  the  important  truth  that  our  faculties  are 
not  innate — are  not  even  connate ; but  he  bungled  in  attempting 


Quoted  by  Dugald  Stewart,  Philosophical  Essays,  p.  166. 


CONDILLAC  S SYSTEM. 


601 


to  trace  the  genesis  of  these  faculties.  That  men  are  not  born 
with  the  powers  of  reasoning,  remembering,  imagining,  is  a prop- 
osition which  will  meet  with  very  little  credit  at  first.  A little 
experience  and  reflection  however  show  us  that  as  the  child  cer- 
tainly cannot  reason,  remember,  or  imagine,  these  being  faculties 
subsequently  and  slowly  developed,  we  must  conclude  that  the 
mental  faculties  are  only  potentially  iu  the  new-born  child.  The 
baby  can  no  more  reason  than  he  can  talk.  He  learns  to  do 
both  ; and,  before  he  can  learu  them,  the  powers  of  his  mind  no 
less  than  the  muscles  of  his  vocal  organs  must  grow,  be  devel- 
oped, and  strengthened  by  exercise.  Man  is  no  more  born  with 
reason  than  an  acorn  is  born  an  oak.  The  grown  man  has  rea- 
son, as  every  oak  has  branches  and  foliage.  But  the  infant  and 
the  acorn,  though  they  contain  that  within  them  which,  under 
fitting  circumstances,  will  be  dev^eloped  into  reason  in  the  one, 
and  foliage  in  the  other,  cannot  be  said  to  have  as  yet  either 
reason  or  foliage. 

This  is  an  important  discov^ery,  and  yet  one  which  is  appa- 
rently obvious,  aud  obtruded  upou  our  experience  by  the  daily 
observation  of  children.  Condillac  has  the  merit  of  having  first 
seen  it;  but  he  saw  it  very  imperfectly,  and  failed  altogether  to 
make  any  good  use  of  it.  As  an  example : He  who  told  us 
that  our  faculties  were  not  innate,  but  were  “ acquired  habits,” 
tells  us,  when  he  comes  to  the  genesis  of  those  faculties,  that 
they  spring  into  existence  at  once — are  born  full-grown — the 
acorn  suddenly  leaps  into  an  oak.  Thus  his  famous  statue  has 
Memory,  Judgment,  Desire,  etc.,  as  soon  as  it  has  Sensations. 
This  is  enough  to  show  that  if  Condillac  discovered  an  important 
fact,  he  only  stumbled  over  it,  and  knew  not  its  significance.^ 
Let  us  hope  that,  if  England  is  to  produce  any  new  system  of 
Psychology,  this  most  important  point  will  not  be  overlooked : 
the  growth  and  development  of  our  faculties  is  as  much  a part 

* The  only  person  who,  to  onr  knowledge,  has  made  any  use  of  this  fact, 
18  Dr.  Beneke,  who  has  made  it  the  basis  of  his  whole  philosophy.  See  hie 
Neue  Payclwloyie,  also  the  lehrhuch  der  Psychologie  (Berlin,  1845). 


602 


CONDILLAC. 


of  Psychology,  as  the  growth  ami  development  of  our  organs  is 
a part  of  Biology.* 

Condillac  has  made  but  a poor  figure  in  our  pages;  let  us 
hasten  to  add,  that  although  his  fundamental  positions  are  erro- 
neous, his  worl  s display  considerable  merits  both  in  manner  and 
matter.  Manj  v:duable  remarks,  and  some  good  analyses,  may 
be  found  in  hi;  writings;  and  the  style  is  admirably  clear.  He 
departed  so  wii  ily  from  Locke,  that  it  seems  strange  he  should 
ever  have  been  considered  as  a disciple.  But  we  have  express 
testimony  to  the  fact  that  he  was  Locke’s  disciple ; and  if  we 
consider  for  a moment  the  great  stress  which  Locke  always  placed 
upon  the  sensuous  origin  of  our  knowledge — that  being  the  point 
he  wished  to  bring  prominently  forward,  because  his  precursors 
had  neglected  it — we  shall  easily  conceive  how  Condillac  might 
have  been  more  impressed  wdth  that  part  of  the  system  than 
with  the  other,  which  Locke  had  rather  indicated  than  developed. 
Moreover  it  was  Locke’s  object  to  prove  the  mind  to  be  a tabula 
rasa,  in  order  to  disprove  innate  ideas.  This  once  being  granted, 
it  was  easy  to  fall  into  the  error  of  Condillac’s  “ simplification.” 

Condillac  was  clear,  but  much  of  his  clearness  was  owing  to 
his  shallowness ; much  of  the  simplicity  was  owing  to  meagre- 
ness. He  tried  to  construct  Psychology  upon  no  firmer  basis 
than  that  adopted  by  the  metaphysicians  whom  he  opposed. 
Analysis  of  mental  operations  and  merely  verbal  distinctions  had 
been  pow’erless  in  the  hands  of  his  precursors,  nor  were  they 
powerful  in  his.  In  many  subordinate  matters  he  improved  on 
them  ; some  of  his  analyses  were  better ; many  of  his  verbal  dis- 
tinctions were  useful ; but  he  had  no  true  psychological  Method, 
and  could  found  no  desirable  system.  The  idea  of  connecting 
Psychology  with  Biology  had  not  yet  been  distinctly  conceived 
Although  the  brain  was  universally  held  to  be  the  “ organ”  of 
the  mind,  the  mind  was,  by  the  strangest  of  oversights,  not  re- 

* Since  this  was  written  Mr.  Herbet  Spencer  has  expounded  the  develop- 
ment of  the  faculties  in  his  very  remarkable  Principles  of  Psycholoii'^ 
(1855). 


hartley’s  life. 


603 


garded  as  the  function  of  that  organ  ■*  consequently  no  one 
thought  of  connecting  the  study  of  the  mind  with  the  study  of 
the  nervous  system ; no  one  thought  of  a physiological  basis  as 
indispensable  to  psychological  science.  We  shall  see  hereafter 
what  attempts  have  been  made  in  this  direction.  The  first  step 
may  be  said  to  have  been  taken  by  Hartley. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HARTLEY. 

§ I.  Life  of  Hartley. 

David  Hartley,  the  son  of  a Yorkshire  clergyman,  was  bom 
on  the  30th  of  August,  1705.  He  went  to  Cambridge  at  fifteen, 
and  became  a Fellow  of  Jesus  College.  Originally  destined  for 
the  Church,  he  had  scruples  about  signing  the  Thirty-nine  Arti- 
cles, and  gave  up  the  Church  for  Medicine,  which  he  subsequently 
practised  with  great  success. 

When  only  twenty-five  years  of  age  he  conceived  the  design 
and  commenced  the  execution  of  his  celebrated  Observations  on 
Man,  his  Frame,  his  Duty,  and  his  Expectations,  led  thereto,  as 
he  tells  us  in  the  Preface,  by  hearing  that  “ the  Rev.  Mr.  Gay 
had  asserted  the  possibility  of  deducing  all  our  intellectual 
pleasures  and  pains  from  association.”  Mr.  Gay  published  his 
views  in  a dissertation  prefixed  to  Law’s  translation  of  King  On 
the  Origin  of  Evil ; but  although  Hartley  acknowledges  having 

* I may  here  enter  a brief  caveat  affainst  the  conclusion  that  I hold  the 
“ mind  to  be  the  function  of  the  brain.  ” This  is  no  place  to  argue  so  wide 
a question;  and  1 content  myself  with  saying,  that  in  the  crude  form  in 
which  that  opinion  is  frequently  presented,  I do  not  agree.  Ideation  I hold 
to  be  one  function  of  the  brain ; but  Mind  is  something  more  general  than 
this  special  function  of  Ideation ; and  the  brain  has  other  functions  besides 
Ideation,  other  functions  than  any  usually  called  mental. 


004: 


HARTLEY. 


derived  tlie  suggestion  from  Gay,  it  is  clear  to  all  readers  of  his 
work,  that  he  had  thoroughly  mastered,  and  made  his  own,  the 
principle  of  Association  as  the  primary  law  of  intellectual  com- 
bination. Hartley  did  not  publish  his  Observations  till  1748, 
eighteen  years  after  the  scheme  was  first  laid.  The  year  before, 
according  to  Dr.  Parr,  he  published  a small  treatise  as  a precur- 
sor to  this  work.  “You  will  be  astonished  to  hear,”  Dr.  Parr 
R’l'ites  to  Dugald  Stewart,*  “ that  hi  this  book,  instead  of  the 
Doctrine  of  Necessity,  Hartley  openly  declares  for  the  indifference 
of  the  will,  as  maintained  by  Archbishop  King.”  And  the  reader 
will  be  astonished  to  hear  that  Hartley  does  no  such  thing! 
Dugald  Stewart,  who  had  not  seen  the  work  referred  to,  remarks 
that  “it  is  curious  that,  in  the  course  of  a year.  Hartley’s  opin 
ions  on  so  very  essential  a point  should  have  undergone  a com- 
plete change still  more  curious,  however,  that  Dr.  Parr  should 
have  read  the  work  and  discovered  in  it  such  a mare’s-nest.  The 
tract  in  question  is  reprinted  in  the  volume  of  Metaphysical 
Tracts  by  English  Philosophers  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Pre- 
fared for  the  Press  by  the  late  Rev.  Samuel  Parr,  D.D.  London, 
1837 — a volume  precious  to  metaphysical  students,  because  it  con- 
tains Collier’s  Claris  Universalis  Specimen  of  True  Philosophy. 
If  the  reader  will  turn  to  the  third  of  these  tracts.  Conjectures 
quoedam  de  Sensu,  Motu,  et  Idearum  Generatione,  without  date, 
he  will  find  that  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  an  abstract,  in 
Latin,  of  the  first  part  of  Hartley’s  Observations  ; and  that  the 
question  of  Free-will  is  nowhere  opened  in  it.  I can  only  sup- 
pose that  Dr.  Parr,  unacquainted  with  physiological  speculations, 
was  misled  by  the  admirable  discussion  of  automatic  and  volun- 
tary actions  (pp.  31—35),  into  the  notion  that  Hartley  there  es- 
poused the  doctrine  of  free-will ; but  I am  surprised  that  Sir  W. 
Hamilton  should  have  allowed  the  error  to  pass  uucorrected  ir 
his  edition  of  Stewart’s  Dissertation. 

Hartley  died  on  the  25th  of  August,  1757,  aged  fifty-two,  and 


Stewart’s  Dissertation,  part  ii.  p.  355  of  Hamilton’s  edition. 


hartley’s  system. 


605 


ieft  a name  so  distinguished  for  piety  and  goodness,  that  it  in  a 
great  measure  shielded  his  doctrines  from  the  reprobation  they 
have  often  incurred  when  promulgated  by  others. 

§ II.  Hartley’s  System. 

Combining  a suggestion  thrown  out  by  Newton  at  the  end  of  his 
Principia^  and  in  the  questions  annexed  to  his  Opticss,  respecting 
vibrations  of  an  ether  as  the  cause  of  sensation,  with  the  doctrine 
of  Locke  respecting  Association  of  Ideas,  Hartley  produced  a 
system  of  Psychology,  which  is  historically  curious  as  the  first 
attempt  to  explain  psychological  phenomena  on  physiological 
principles.  If  not  worth  much  as  a contribution  to  Philosophy, 
it  is  very  noticeable  as  an  elfort  to  connect  intellectual  with  phys- 
ical phenomena;  and,  however  subsequent  writers  may  have  rid- 
iculed, not  without  excuse,  the  vibrations  and  vibratiuncles  which 
Hartley  substituted  for  the  old  metaphysical  conceptions,  it 
is  certain  that  his  attempt  to  explain  the  phenomena  physio- 
logically, has  very  much  influenced  the  thoughts  of  succeeding 
speculators. 

“ Man,”  he  says,  “ consists  of  two  parts,  body  and  mind.” 
Does  he  mean  by  this  to  proclaim  the  existence  of  a distinct, 
immaterial  entity  superadded  to  the  body?  According  to  the 
terms  of  his  definition,  on  the  first  page  of  his  work,  this  seems 
to  be  his  intention ; for  he  defines  it  as  “ that  substance,  agent, 
principle,  etc.,  to  which  we  refer  the  sensations,  ideas,  pleasures, 
pains,  and  voluntary  motions.”  Yet  the  whole  system  of  vibra- 
tions seems  to  imply  the  contrary ; and  at  the  close  of  the  first 
part  of  his  work,  he  declares  that  he  holds  himself  aloof  from 
the  question  altogether.  He  will  not  deny  the  immateriality  of 
mind : “ On  the  contrary,  I see  clearly,  and  acknowledge  readily, 
that  matter  and  motion,  however  subtly  divided,  yield  nothing . 
more  than  matter  and  motion  still.  But  then  neither  would  I 
affirm^ that  this  consideration  affords  a proof  of  the  soul’s  imma- 
teriality.” He  thinks,  with  Locke,  that  it  is  quite  possible  the 
Creator  should  have  endowed  matter  with  sensation  ; but  he  will 
41 


606 


HARTLEY. 


not  undertake  to  affirm  it  as  a truth.  “ It  is  sufficient  for  me 
that  there  is  a certain  connection,  of  one  kind  or  other,  between 
the  sensations  of  the  soul,  and  the  motions  excited  in  the  medul- 
lary substance  of  the  brain.”*  A more  rigorous  logic  would 
have  forced  him  into  a more  decided  opinion  ; for  this  question 
of  the  soul’s  immateriality  is  one  vitally  affecting-  the  system  oi 
vibrations;  and  his  adversaries  have  had  little  difficulty  in  show- 
ing the  insufficiency  of  “vibrations”  to  explain  the  phenomena 
of  an  immaterial  mind.  Between  the  immaterial  principle  and 
these  material  vibrations,  there  is  an  impassable  gulf;  let  the 
other  vibrate  never  so  rhythmically,  it  alwaj-s  remains  “ vibrating 
ether,”  it  cannpt  become  “ sensation,”  “ thought ;”  nor  does  Hart- 
ley bridge  over  the  gulf  by  the  assumption  of  an  “ infinitesimal 
elementary  body  intermediate  between  the  soul  and  the  gross 
body,”  to  which,  and  from  which,  the  vibrations  of  the  nerves 
are  communicated ; the  radical  difficulty  remains  the  same. 

It  may  be  objected,  perhaps,  that  those  who  point  out  the  de- 
fect in  Hartley’s  hypothesis  are  themselves  open  to  a similar 
charge,  since  they  assume  an  immaterial  principle  to  be  effected 
by  a material  change,  and  assume  the  mind  to  be  in  connection 
with  the  body,  following  its  alterations.  But  there  is  this  differ- 
ence between  them  and  Hartley  : they  do  not  pretend  to  explain 
how  mind  is  affected  by  body ; he  does.  They  accept,  as  an  ulti- 
mate fact,  what  he  attempts  to  elucidate  ; and  it  is  his  elucida- 
tion which  they  refuse  to  acknowledge. 

And  we  must  agree  with  them  in  rejecting  the  hypothesis 
which  Hartley  proposes ; for  it  is  not  only  incompetent  to  ex- 
plain the  phenomena,  but  it  is  also  one  of  those  ingenuities  inca- 
pable of  really  serving  the  purpose  of  a good  hypothesis,  because 
in  itself  wholly  incapable  of  verification. 

His  first  proposition  is  that  “ The  white  medullary  substance 
of  the  brain,  spinal  marrow,  and  the  nerves  proceeding  from 


* Compare  also  Scholium  to  Prop.  5 (vol.  i.  p.  33)  and  Conjecturm  quoedam 
de  Senau,  etc.,  p.  41. 


hartley’s  system. 


607 


viem,  is  tlie  immediate  instrument  of  sensation  and  motion.” 
Modern  physiologists  maintain  precisely  the  reverse  of  this,  de- 
claring the  matter  to  be  the  specific  seat  of  sensation  and 
intelligence.  I may  say,  in  passing,  that  both  these  positions 
seem  to  me  erroneous  in  their  exclusiveness  ; and  that  the  white 
as  well  as  the  gray  substance  must  be  present,  just  as  the  zinc 
and  copper  plates  must  both  be  present  in  the  galvanic  battery. 

Hartley  continues:  “External  objects  impressed  upon  the 
senses  occasion,  first  in  the  nerves  on  which  they  are  impressed, 
and  then  in  the  brain.  Vibrations  of  the  small — or,  as  any  one 
may  say,  infinitesimal — medullary  particles.  These  Vibrations 
are  motions  backwards  and  forwards,  of  the  same  kind  as  the 
oscillation  of  pendulums,  and  the  tremblings  of  the  particles  of 
sounding  bodies.  They  must  be  conceived  to  be  exceedingly 
short  and  small,  so  as  not  to  have  the  least  efiicacy  to  disturb  or 
move  the  whole  bodies  of  the  nerves  or  brain.  For  that  the 
nerves  themselves  should  vibrate  like  musical  strings  is  highly 
absurd.” 

It  appears  from  a passage  in  the  Contemplation  de  la  Nature 
of  the  Genevese  naturalist,  Charles  Bonnet,  who  published,  al- 
most contemporaneously  with  Hartley,  a doctrine  almost  indis- 
tinguishable from  Hartley’s,  that  certain  physiologists  had  already 
entertained  the  idea  of  sensation  being  the  result  of  a nervmus 
oscillation.  “ Ils  vouloient  faire  osciller  les  nerfs  pour  rendre 
raison  des  sensations ; et  les  nerfs  ne  peuvent  pas  osciller.  Ils 
sont  mous,  et  nullement  elastiques.”*  Not  the  nerves,  but  the 
elastic  ether  which  penetrates  the  nerves,  is  the  seat  of  these  os- 
cillations, according  to  Hartley  and  Bonnet. 

The  greatest  defect  of  this  hypothesis  is  that  it  explains  noth- 
.ng,  while  seeming  to  explain  every  thiiig.  Sensation  remains 
as  mysterious  as  before.  If  we  call  sensations  by  the  new  name 
of  vibrations,  we  have  done  nothing  but  change  the  name  ; and 
if  we  say  sensations  are  vibrations,  or  are  produced  by  them, 
then  the  onus  of  proof  rests  on  our  shoulders. 


* Partie  vii.  ch.  i. 


608 


HARTLEY. 


While  acknowledging  the  defect  of  Hartley’s  system,  let  us 
not  forget  its  excellence.  If  the  doctrine  of  Association  was  not 
first  applied  by  him,  it  was-  by  him  first  made  a physiologico- 
psychological  basis.  He  not  only  applied  it  to  the  explanation 
of  mental  phenomena;  he  applied  it,  and  with  great  ingenuity, 
to  those  physiological  phenomena  which  still  interest  and  per- 
plex philosophers,  namely  the  voluntary  and  involuntary  actions. 
His  twenty-first  proposition,  and  the  elucidations  which  follow, 
deserve  to  be  read,  even  in  the  present  day  ; and  the  following 
passage  from  the  abstract  published  in  Parr’s  Tracts,  is,  in  its 
pregnant  brevity,  worth  quoting  here.  “ Discentes  pulsare  in- 
strumenta  musica,  primo  movent  digitos  actione  voluntari^,  con- 
nectente?  interea  Ideas,  imperiaque  Animse,  hos  motus  lente 
excitantia,  cum  aspectu  characterum  musicorum.  Continuato  hoc 
processu,  accedunt  indies,  propius  propiusque  ad  se  invicem, 
motus  digitorum,  et  impressiones  characterum,  et  tandem,  Ideis 
et  imperiis  Animse  in  infinitum  quasi  diminutis,  coalescunt.  Fi- 
dicen  igitur  peritus  chordas  digitis  percurrit  citissime,  et  ordine 
justo,  ex  raero  aspectu  characterum  musicorum,  animo  interim 
alienis  cognitationibus  intento  ; atque  proinde  characteres  musici 
idem  illi  prsestant  oflScium,  ac  Sensationes  impressse  recens  natis, 
in  motibus  eorum  automaticis.  Migrant  itaque  ope  Associationis 
tarn  Motus  voluntarii  in  automaticos,  quam  automatici  in  volun- 
tarios.”* 

So  little  dependent  is  the  psychological  doctrine  of  Association 
on  the  physiological  doctrine  of  Vibrations,  that  Priestley,  in  his 
Abridgment  of  Hartley,  omits  the  latter  hypothesis  altogether. 
The  principle  of  Association  passed  into  the  Scotch  school ; and 
Hartley  thus  historically  forms  the  transition  to  Reid  and  h*s 
followers,  who  studiously  avoided  any  thing  like  a physiological 
explanation  of  mental  phenomena.  Before  passing  to  Reid,  how- 
ever, it  will  be  well  to  glance  at  Darwin. 


Conjectural,  p.  84. 


CHAPTER  III. 


DAEWm. 

Although  even  more  neglected  than  Hartley  by  the  present 
generation,  Darwin,  once  so  celebrated,  deserves  mention  here 
as  one  of  the  psychologists  who  aimed  at  establishing  the  physio- 
logical basis  of  mental  phenomena. 

Erasmus  Darwin  was  born  at  Elton,  near  Newark,  on  the  12th 
December,  1Y31.  After  studying  at  St.  John’s  College,  Cam- 
bridge, and  taking  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Medicine  at  Edin- 
burgh, he  established  himself  as  a physician  in  Lichfield,  mar- 
ried twice,  had  three  sons,  and  died  in  the  seventieth  year  of  his 
age,  18th  April,  1802.  As  a poet,  his  Botanic  Garden  (1Y81) 
by  its  tawdry  splendor  gained  him  a tawdry  reputation  ; as  a 
philosopher  his  Zoonomia ; or,  Laws  of  Organic  Life  (2  vols. 
4to,  1794-6),  gained  him  a reputation  equally  noisy  and  fleeting. 

Although  couched  in  different  language,  Darwin’s  theory  is 
substantially  the  same  as  Hartley’s ; instead  of  “ vibrations”  he 
substitutes  “ sensorial  motions.”  By  the  sensorium  Darwin  means 
“ not  only  the  medullary  part  of  the  brain,  spinal  marrow,  nerves, 
organs  of  sense,  and  of  the  muscles ; but  also  at  the  same  time 
that  living  principle,  or  spirit  of  animation,  which  resides  through- 
out the  body  without  being  cognizable  to  our  senses,  except  by 
its  effects.”  The  changes  which  occasionally  take  place  in  the 
sensorium,  as  during  the  exertions  of  volition,  or  the  sensations 
of  pleasure  or  pain,  are  termed  sensorial  motions* 

The  medullary  substance,  he  thinks,  pas^es  along  the  nerves 
and  mingles  with  the  muscular  fibres.  The  “ organs  of  sense 
*onsist  in  like  manner  of  moving  fibres  enveloped  in  the  medul- 
lary substance.”  The  word  idea  has  various  meanings,  he  says, 


* Zoonomia,  vol.  i.  p.  10. 


610 


DARWIN. 


and  to  give  it  precision  he  defines  it  as  “ a contraction  or  mo- 
tion, or  configuration  of  the  fibres  which  constitute  the  imme- 
diate organ  of  sense.  Synonymous  with  the  word  idea  we  shall 
sometimes  use  the  words  sensual  motion,  in  contradistinction  to 
muscular  motion'' 

He  then  undertakes  to  prove  the  existence  of  these  sensual 
motions,  and  deduces  from  this  proof  the  fact  that  as  we  advance 
in  life  all  the  parts  of  our  bodies  become  rigid,  and  are  conse- 
quently less  susceptible  of  new  habits  of  motion,  though  they 
retain  those  already  established.  Hence  only  the  young  can 
learn ; hence  the  aged  forget  the  events  of  yesterday  and  remem- 
ber those  of  infancy.* 

“ If  our  recollection,  or  imagination,  be  not  a repcuition  of 
animal  movements,  I ask,  in  my  turn,  What  is  it  ? You  tell  me 
it  consists  of  images  or  pictures  of  things.  Where  is  this  exten- 
sive canvas  hung  up  ? or  where  the  numerous  receptacles  in 
which  these  are  deposited  ? or  to  what  else  in  the  animal  sys- 
tem have  they  any  similitude  ? That  pleasing  picture  of  objects, 
represented  in  miniature  on  the  retina  of  the  eye,  seems  to  have 
given  rise  to  this  illusive  oratory  ! It  was  forgot  that  this  rep- 
resentation belongs  rather  to  the  laws  of  light  than  to  those  of 
life ; and  may  with  equal  elegance  he  seen  in  the  camera  ob- 
scura  as  in  the  eye  ; and  that  the  picture  vanishes  forever  when 
the  object  is  withdrawn.”! 

Had  Darwin  left  us  only  the  passage  just  cited,  we  should 
have  credited  him  with  a profounder  insight  into  Psychology 
than  any  of  his  contemporaries,  and  the  majority  of  his  succes- 
sors, exhibit ; and  although  the  perusal  of  Zoonomia  must  con- 
vince every  one  that  Darwin’s  system  is  built  up  of  absurd  hypoth- 
eses, Darwin  deserves  a place  in  history  for  that  one  admirable 
conception  of  psychology  as  subordinate  to  the  laws  of  life.  So 


* Zoonomia,  vol.  i.  p.  27. 

t Ibid.,  p.  29.  In  Bain’s  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  p.  60  sq.,  the  reader  will 
find  the  old  theory  of  a sensorium,  or  chamber  of  images,  which  Darwin 
here  pashes  aside,  satisfectorily  refuted  from  the  physiological  point  of  view 


DARWIN. 


611 


little  has  this  conception  been  appreciated,  that  not  only  are  sys- 
tems of  Psychology  constructed  in  serene  indifference  to  Physi- 
ology, but  many  of  the  questions  agitated  in  mental  Physiology 
are  hopelessly  entangled  because  men  vdll  not,  or  cannot,  dis- 
criminate between  problems  of  Physics  and  problems  of  Physi- 
ology ; between  phenomena  regulated  by  laws  of  inorganic  mat- 
ter, and  phenomena  regulated  by  laws  of  organic  matter.  Thus 
the  questions.  Why  with  two  eyes  do  we  see  objects  shigle?  and, 
Why  do  we  not  see  objects  inverted,  since  their  images  are  in- 
verted on  the  retina  ? have  puzzled  thousands ; and  not  one  of 
the  attempted  solutions  has  recognized  the  important  fact  that 
the  problems  are  psychological,  not  optical  nor  anatomical,  con- 
sequently cannot  be  settled  by  optics  or  anatomy ; angles  of 
incidence,  and  discussation  of  optic  nerves,  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  phenomena  the  moment  after  the  Sensational  Centre 
has  been  affected.  We  might  as  well  attempt  to  deduce  the  as- 
similation of  sugar  from  the  angles  of  its  crystals,  or  from  the 
sand-like  disposition  of  its  grains,  as  to  deduce  the  perception 
of  an  object  from  the  laws  of  optics : the;  crystals  and  grains  of 
sugar  must  first  be  destroyed,  and  the  sugar  made  soluble,  before 
it  can  be  assimilated  ; the  retinal  images  must,  in  like  manner, 
first  be  transformed  in  the  Sensational  Centre  before  they  can, 
through  the  sensational  centre,  affect  the  cerebrum. 

That  this  is  no  gratuitous  hypothesis  of  mine,  but  expresses 
the  actual  process  of  perception,  in  as  far  as  that  process  has 
been  ascertained,  may  perhaps  be  made  clear  from  the  following 
considerations.  When  I say  that  the  perception  of  a visual  ob- 
ject is  a psychological  act,  not  in  any  way  explicable  by  the  laws 
of  optics,  or  by  any  investigation  of  the  anatomical  structure  of 
the  optic  apparatus,  I ground  that  assertion  on  certain  authorita- 
tive facts  ; for  example,  I take  up  the  vexed  question  of  our  per- 
ceiving an  object  as  single,  although  two  images  are  formed  on 
the  two  retinas  ; and  instead  of  endeavoring  to  explain  it  by  del- 
icate anatomy  of  the  retina,  or  the  decussating  fibres  of  the  optic 
nerves,  1 at  once  remove  it  from  that  circle  of  discussion  by  class 


612 


DAKWIN. 


ing  it  with  phenomena  precisely  analogous.  We  see  objects 
single  with  two  eyes  , true,  but  we  also  hear  sounds  as  single 
with  two  ears,  we  smell  odors  as  single  with  two  nostrils,  we  feel 
objects  as  single  with  five  fingers.  How  is  it  that  no  physiolo- 
gist has  refiected  on  the  bearing  of  these  facts  ? If  the  ordinary 
explanations  of  optical  perception  are  correct,  why  do  not  audi- 
tory and  olfactory  nerves  decussate  ? — Why  do  not  the  waves  of 
sound  affect  similar  points  of  the  tympanum — and  so  the  whole 
mystery  be  cleared  up  I No  sooner  is  attention  called  to  the 
fact  of  single  hearing  and  single  smelling,  with  two  auditory  and 
two  olfactory  nerves,  than  we  at  once  cease  to  regard  single 
vision  with  two  optic  nerves  as  any  thing  special,  and  we  try  if 
a psychological  explanation  will  not  avail.  I believe  the  ex- 
planation to  be  very  simple.  We  cannot  have  two  precisely  simi- 
lar sensations  at  precisely  the  same  instant;  the  simultaneousness 
of  the  two  sensations  renders  them  indistinguishable.  Two  sounds 
of  precisely  the  same  pitch  and  intensity,  succeeding  each  other 
by  an  appreciable  interval,  will  be  heard  as  two  sounds ; but  if 
they  succeed  each  other  so  rapidly  that  the  interval  is  ina25pre- 
ciable,  no  distinction  will  be  felt,  and  the  two  will  be  heard  as 
one,  because  heard  simultaneously.  As  I am  forced  to  be  very 
brief  here,  the  reader  will  not  expect  any  development  of  this 
theory,  but  will  pass  wdth  me  to  the  consideration  of  other  psy- 
chological aspects  of  perception. 

The  fact  of  our  being  able  to  see  an  image  reflected  on  the 
retina  of  an  animal,  and  of  our  being  able  to  explain  on  optical 
principles  the  formation  of  that  image,  has  very  much  misled 
physiologists  in  their  efforts  to  comprehend  sensation  ; they  have 
naturally  imagined  that  in  vision  we  see  the  retinal  image ; 
whereas,  unless  I am  altogether  mistaken,  we  see  nothing  of  the 
kind — we  are  affected  by  that  retinal  image,  as  in  hearing  we  are 
affected  by  a wave  of  air,  but  do  not  perceive  the  wave ; or  as  in 
imelling  we  are  affected  by  the  action  of  volatile  substances  on 
the  olfactory  nerve,  but  do  not  perceive  the  substances.  We 
only  perceive  the  changes  effected  in  us  by  these  agents. 


DARWIN. 


G13 


The  various  Sensational  Centres  (see  p.  598)  are  variously 
affected  by  the  same  stimuli : electricity  giving  to  the  gustatory 
nerve  the  stimulus  of  savorous  bodies,  to  the  auditory  nerve  the 
stimulus  of  sonorous  vibrations,  to  the  optic  nerve  the  stimulus 
of  luminous  bodies,  to  the  tactile  nerves  the  stimulus  of  touch. 
Pressure  on  the  eye  causes  luminous  spots  to  be  seen  ; we  seem 
to  see  fire-flies.  The  pressure  of  over-distended  blood-vessels 
produces  spectral  illusions,  and  we  see  daggers  in  the  air  as 
vividly  as  any  at  our  sides.  Unhappy  students  well  know  the 
“ singing  in  the  ears”  produced  by  over-study.  Nor  is  this  all ; 
narcotics  introduced  into  the  blood  excite  in  each  Sensational 
Centre  the  specific  sensation  normally  excited  by  its  external 
stimuli ; giving  the  appearance  of  luminous  spots  to  the  eyes,  of 
singing  in  the  ears  to  the  auditory  nerves,  and  of  “ creeping  sen- 
sations” to  the  nerves  of  touch. 

The  reason  of  this  is  that  each  Sensational  Centre  has  its  spe- 
cific manner  of  being  affected,  no  matter  what  the  specific  nature 
of  the  thing  affecting  it.  While  only  certain  things  aflfect  it  sen- 
sationally, all  those  which  do  affect  it,  do  so  in  a specific  manner. 
Light,  for  instance,  affects  the  optic  centre,  but  produces  no  ap- 
preciable effect  on  the  auditory,  gustatory,  or  tactile  centres ; 
nevertheless  the  optic  centre  may  be  affected  by  pressure,  by 
narcotics,  or  by  electricity,  precisely  in  the  same  way  as  by 
light.  The  vibrations  of  a tuning-fork,  which  aflfect  the  auditory 
centre  as  sound,  affect  the  tactile  centre  as  “ tickling,”  not 
“ sound.” 

From  these  indubitable  facts  it  is  not  difficult  to  elicit  a con- 
clusion, namely,  that  sensation  depends  on  the  Sensational  Centre 
and  not  on  the  external  stimulus,  that  stimulus  being  only  the 
cause  of  the  sensational  change.  Whether  the  retina  be  directly 
aflfected  by  rays  of  light  issuing  from  an  object,  or  the  optic  cen- 
tre be  affected  by  the  pressure  of  congested  blood-vessels,  in  each 
case  we  see,  in  each  case  the  optic  centre  is  afi'ected  in  that  spe- 
cific manner  in  which  alone  it  is  capable  of  being  aflfected.  Con- 
sequently inasmuch  as  the  visual  sensation  depends  on  the  optic 


C14 


DARWIN. 


centre  beinr  affected,  and  does  not  depend  on  the  formation  oi 
an  image  on  the  retina,  we  have  no  alternative  hut  to  admit  that 
the  retinal  affection  is  transformed  by  the  Sensational  Centre,  nnd 
there  the  impression  first  becomes  a sensation. 

It  may  be  added  as  confirmation  of  the  foregoing’  doctrine  re- 
specting the  centre  as  the  seat  of  sensation,  that  Muller  has  cited 
examples  of  luminous  spectra  being  excited  by  internal  causes 
after  the  complete  destruction  of  the  retina ; and  “ Luicke  relates 
the  case  of  a patient  who,  after  the  extirpation  of  the  eye  for  fun- 
goid disease,  perceived  all  kinds  of  luminous  appearances  inde- 
pendently of  external  objects.”* 

When  therefore  it  is  asked,  Why  do  we  see  objects  erect, 
when  they  throw  inverted  images  on  the  retina  ? the  answer  is. 
Because  we  do  not  see  the  retinal  image  at  all ; we  see,  or  are 
affected  by,  the  object  ;•  and  our  perception  of  the  erectness  of 
that  object  does  not  depend  on  vision,  but  on  our  conceptions  of 
space  and  the  relations  of  space — which  are  not  given  in  the 
visual  sensation,  but  are  ideal  conceptions  : conceptions  which 
are  acquired  in  a complicated  series  of  inferences,  according  to 
most  philosophers  ; which  are  “forms  of  thought,”  according  to 
Kant;  but  which  are  by  no  school  held  to  be  immediate  ele- 
ments of  sensation. 

We  thus  return  to  the  position  that  in  every  act  of  conscious- 
ness the  impression  on  the  nerve  becomes  transformed  into  a 
sensation  only  in  the  Sensational  Centre  ; and  the  old  theories 
of  “ eidola,”  “images,”  “impressions,”  are  seen  to  be  untenable. 
-Just  as  the  crystals  of  sugar  have  to  be  decomposed,  and  the 
sugar,  transformed  into  glucose,  the  glucose  transformed  into 
lactic  acid,  before  sugar  can  be  assimilable  in  the  organism,  so 
have  the  retinal  images  to  be  decomposed  in  the  optic  centre  be- 
fore a visual  sensation  can  be  produced.  Attempt  a more  direct 
process,  and  failure  is  inevitable  : cane-sugar  injected  into  the 
veins  is  expelled  in  the,  urine  as  a foreign  substance,  not  assimila- 


Miiller,  Physiology,  Eng.  Trans,  i.  1072. 


DARWIN. 


615 


ble  ; and,  in  like  manner,  the  most  dexterous  adjustment  of  rays 
of  light  falling  immediately  on  the  optic  ganglion,  not  transmit- 
ted thereto  by  the  optic  nerve,  would  produce  no  visual  sensation. 

Does  not  this  demonstrate  the  purely  subjective  nature  of  all 
our  knowledge,  and  the  necessary  admixture  of  the  ideal  element 
in  all  perception  ? It  also  demonstrates  the  futility  of  the  theory 
adopted  by  Hartley  and  Darwin,  which  attempts  to  explain  men- 
tal phenomena  by  “ vibrations”  and  “ motions.”  Motion  can 
only  be  motion,  it  cannot  be  the  specific  phenomena  we  name 
sensation.  To  call  sensations  aud  ideas  by  the  vague  name  of 
motions,  is  to  violate  the  conditions  of  philosophic  language,  and 
to  mislead  those  who  accept  it  into  the  belief  that  an  explanation 
has  been  given  in  the  change  of  term.  That  Darwin  was  by  it 
misled  into  absurdity  will  be  apparent  in  the  following  attempt 
to  explain  perception : 

“ No  one  will  deny,”  he  says,  “that  the  medulla  of  the  brain 
and  nerves  has  a certain  figure  ; which,  as  it  is  diffused  through 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  body,  must  have  nearly  the  figure  of 
that  body.  Now  it  follows  that  the  spirit  of  animation,  or  living 
principle,  as  it  occupies  this  medulla  and  no  other  part,  has  also 
the  same  figure  as  the  medulla  . . . which  is  nearly  the  figure 
of  the  body.  When  the  idea  of  solidity  is  excited,  a part  of  the 
extensive  organ  of  touch  is  compressed  by  some  external  body, 
and  this  part  of  the  sensorium  so  compressed  exactly  resembles 
in  figure  the  figure  of  the  body  that  compressed  it.  Hence 
when  we  acquii'e  the  idea  of  solidity  we  acquire  at  the  same  time 
the  idea  of  figure  ; and  this  idea  of  figure,  or  motion  of  a part 
of  the  organ  of  touch,  exactly  resembles  in  its  figure  the  figure 
of  the  body  that  occasions  it ; and  thus  exactly  acquaints  us  with 
this  property  of  the  external  world.”* 

He  is  thus  brought  back  to  the  old  conception  of  the  mind 
being  “ impressed”  by  the  exact  forms  of  objects  as  wax  is  im- 
pressed by  a seal.  As  he  proceeds  he  gets  more  and  more  ab- 


* Zoonomia,  pp.  111-2. 


616 


DAEWIN. 


surd.  Thus  he  says,  although  “ there  may  exist  beings  in  the 
universe  that  have  not  the  property  of  solidity ; that  is,  which 
can  possess  any  part  of  space  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  occupied 
by  other  bodies ; yet  there  may  be  other  beings  that  can  assume 
this  'property  of  solidity  or  disrobe  themselves  of  it  occasionally,  as 
we  are  taught  of  spirits  and  of  angels  ; and  it  would  seem  that 
the  spirit  of  animation  must  be  endued  with  this  property,  other  i 
wise  how  could  it  occasionally  give  motion  to  the  limbs  of  ani- 
mals ? or  be  itself  stimulated  into  motion  by  the  obtrusions  of 
surrounding  bodies,  as  of  light  or  odor  ?”*  He  is  led  to  this  by 
the  Spinozistic  axiom,  that  “ no  two  things  can  influence  or  affect 
each  other  which  have  not  some  property  common  to  both  of 
them,”  which  axiom  destroys  the  possibility  of  spirit  acting  on 
body.  Hartley,  as  we  saw,  tried  to  get  over  this  difficulty  by 
assuming  the  existence  of  a substance  intermediate  between  body 
and  spirit.  Darwin  finds  it  easy  to  assume  that  the  spirit  has 
the  power  of  putting  on  or  putting  oft’  the  properties  of  matter 
just  as  it  pleases.  “Hence  the  spirit  of  animation  at  the  time 
it  communicates  or  receives  motion  from  solid  bodies  must  itself 
possess  some  property  of  solidity.  And  at  the  time  it  receives 
other  kinds  of  motion  from  light,  it  must  possess  that  property 
which  light  possesses  to  communicate  that  motion  named  Visi- 
bility. In  like  manner  it  possesses  Saporosity,  Odorosity,  Tangi- 
bility, and  Audibility.”! 

This  is  enough  to  show  how  little  Darwin  understood  the  real 
value  of  his  luminous  idea  respecting  Psychology  based  on  the 
laws  of  life ; enough  also  to  make  every  one  understand  how 
philosophers  rebelled  against  such  “ materialism”  as  issued  from 
the  explanation  of  mental  phenomena  by  “ sensory  motions.” 
Before  finally  quitting  the  Zoanomia  we  must  pause  a moment 
over  the  explanation  of  our  feeling  for  Beauty.  He  describes  the 
sensations  of  the  babe  when  “ soon  after  it  is  born  into  this  cold 
world  it  is  applied  to  its  mother’s  warm  bosom,”  and  the  agree- 


* Zoonomia,  p.  114. 


t Ibid.,  i.  115. 


DAEWIN. 


617 


able  influences  wbich  thus  grow  up  in  the  mind  associated  with 
the  form  of  the  bosom  “which  the  infant  embraces  with  its 
hands,  presses  with  its  lips,  and  watches  with  its  eyes  ; and  thus 
acquires  more  accurate  ideas  of  the  form  than  of  the  odor,  and 
flavor,  or  warmth,  which  it  perceives  by  its  other  senses.  And 
hence  in  our  maturer  years,  when  any  object  of  vision  is  presented 
to  us,  which,  by  its  waving  or  spiral  lines,  bears  any  similitude 
to  the  form  of  the  female  bosom, — whether  it  be  found  in  a 
landscape  with  soft  gradations  of  rising  and  descending  surface, 
or  in  the  form  of  some  antique  vases,  or  in  the  works  of  the 
pencil  or  chisel, — we  feel  a general  glow  of  delight  which  seems 
to  influence  all  our  senses ; and  if  the  object  be  not  too  large, 
we  experience  an  attraction  to  embrace  it  with  our  arms,  and 
to  salute  it  with  our  lips,  as  we  did  in  our  early  infancy  the  bosom 
of  our  mother.”* 

One  of  the  happiest  illustrations  of  ridicule  being  the  test  of 
truth,  is  the  reply  of  Sheridan  to  this  theory  of  Beauty.  “ I sup- 
pose,” said  he,  “ that  the  child  brought  up  by  hand,  would  feel 
all  these  emotions  at  the  sight  of  a wooden  spoon !” 


Zoanomia,  i.  145. 


SEYENTH  EPOCH. 


SECOND  CRISIS  . IDEALISM,  SKEPTICISM,  AND  SENSATIONAL- 
ISM PRODUCING  THE  REACTION  OP  COMMON  SENSE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

REID. 

Dugald  Stewart  opens  his  Account  of  the  Life  and  Writings 
of  Thomas  Reid  with  remarking  that  the  life  was  “ uncommonly 
barren  of  those  incidents  which  furnish  materials  for  biography 
and  as  onr  space  is  scanty,  we  will  content  ourselves  with  a bare 
enumeration  of  such  facts  as  may  be  useful  for  reference.  Thomas 
Reid  was  born  in  1710,  at  Strachan  in  Kincardineshire.  He 
was  educated  at  Marischal  College,  Aberdeen.  In  1752  he  occu- 
pied the  chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  Aberdeen.  In  1764  ap- 
peared his  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Principles  of 
Common  Sense.  “In  1763*  the  Inquiry  received  a still  more 
substantial  testimony  of  approbation  from  the  University  of 
Glasgow,”  in  the  offer  of  the  chair  of  Moral  Philosophy,  vacant 
by  the  resignation  of  Adam  Smith.  In  1780  Reid  resigned  his 
office,  and  passed  the  remaining  years  of  his  life  in  retirement 
and  study.  In  1785  appeared  his  Hssays  on  the  Intellectual 
Powers.  He  died  in  Glasgow  in  1796,  having  survived  four  of 
his  children. 


* We  follow  Stewart ; but  there  must  be  some  error  here.  If  the  Inquiry 
was  not  published  till  1764,  Reid  could  not  in  1763  have  been  offered  the 
chair  at  Glasgow  as  a “ testimony  of  approbation.” 


RKn>, 


619 


Reid’s  philosophy  made  a great  stir  at  first,  but  has  for  some 
Tears  past  been  sinking  into  merited  neglect.  The  appeal  to 
Common  Sense  as  arbiter  in  Philosophy,  is  now  pretty  well  un- 
derstood to  be  on  a par  with  Dr.  Johnson’s  kicking  a stone  as  a 
refutation  of  Berkeley.  Indeed  Dugald  Stewart  himself  was  fully 
alive  to  the  inconsequence  of  such  an  argument,  and  endeavored 
to  shield  his  master  by  saying  that  the  phrases  “Common  Sense” 
and  “ Instinct”  were  unhappily  chosen.  Unfortunately  they  were 
not  mere  phrases  with  Reid ; they  were  principles.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  read  the  Inquiry  and  not  see  that  Reid  took  his  stand 
upon  Common  Sense  and  Beattie  and  Oswald,  his  immediate 
disciples,  are  still  more  open  to  the  charge. 

It  would  carry  us  to  great  lengths  if  we  were  to  examine  all 
the  questionable  tenets  contained  in  the  Philosophy  of  Common 
Sense.  We  cannot  however  pass  the  supposed  triumph  over 
Locke,  who  said  that  personal  identity  consists  in  Consciousness ; 
“ that  is,”  continues  Reid,  “ if  you  are  conscious  you  did  such  a 
thing  a twelvemonth  ago,  this  consciousness  of  what  is  past  can 
signify  nothing  else  but  the  remembrance  that  I did  it;  so 
Locke’s  principle  must  be,  that  Identity  consists  in  remembrance ; 
and,  consequently,  a man  must  lose  his  personal  identity  with 
regard  to  every  thing  he  forgets.”  Here  Locke  is  altogether 
misstated.  Consciousness  does  not  resolve  itself  into  any  single 
act  of  memory,  as  Reid  would  here  have  us  believe,  nor  can  per- 
sonal identity  be  limited  to  any  one  act.  I have  the  conscious- 
ness of  a certain  mental  state,  therewith  is  connected  the  re- 
membrance of  some  anterior  state,  which  was  also  connected 
with  an  anterior  state,  and  so  on.  The  chain  is  made  up  of 
many  links,  and  although  some  of  these  may  be  out  of  sight,  not 
one  is  broken.  I am  connected  with  my  boyhood  by  a regular 
series  of  transmitted  acts  of  consciousness.  I may  have  forgotten 


* “ I despise  Philosophy,  and  renounce  its  guidance : let  my  soul  dwell 
with  Common  Sense.”  {Inquiry,  ch.  i.  § 3.)  Let  it  be  observed  in  passing, 
that  by  Reid’s  disciples  the  Inquiry  is  always  regarded  as  his  best  work ; 
Jie  Essays  were  written  in  old  age. 


620 


KEID. 


a thousand  things,  hut  I have  not  forgotten  myself : if  one  ad 
performed  yesterday  is  forgotten  to-day,  all  are  not  forgotten ' 
and  to  remember  one,  however  indistinctly,  is  sufficient  to  keep 
up  the  continuity  of  consciousness.  Let  those  who  fancy  the 
sentiment  of  personal  identity  does  not  consist  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  personal  identity,  show  us  in  what  it  does  consist. 

We  come  now  to  Reid’s  great  achievement,  that  upon  which 
he  declared  his  philosophical  fame  to  rest : the  refutation  of 
Berkeley  and  Hume  by  the  refutation  of  the  Ideal  theory.  This 
he  considered  as  his  contribution  to  philosophy ; this  has  been 
made  the  monument  of  his  glory.  It  appears  to  us,  after  a long 
acquaintance  with  his  writings,  and  a careful  perusal  of  what  his 
critics  and  admirers  have  advanced,  that  his  sole  merit  in  this 
respect  is  that  of  having  called  attention  to  some  abuses  of  lan- 
guage, and  to  some  examples  of  metaphors  mistaken  for  facts. 
How  much  confusion  the  word  “ idea”  has  always  created  need 
scarcely  be  alluded  to ; and  any  attempt  to  destroy  the  accepta- 
tion of  the  word  as  tantamount  to  image,  must  be  welcomed  as 
salutary.  So  far  let  us  be  grateful  to  Reid.  Locke’s  use  of  the 
word  “idea”  as  signifying  “a  thought”  instead  of  an  “image,” 
has  misled  thousands.  But  whatever  abuses  may  have  crept  in 
with  the  use  of  the  word  idea,  it  seems  to  us  quite  clear  that 
Berkeley  and  Hume  are  not  to  be  refuted  by  refuting  the  hy- 
pothesis of  ideas,  as  Reid  and  his  school  suppose. 

Let  us,  to  avoid  useless  discussion,  take  it  for  granted  that 
philosophers  did  adopt  the  theory  of  ideas  which  Reid  combats ; 
let  us  also  grant  that  Reid  has  overturned  that  theory.  What 
advance  is  made  towards  a solution  of  the  problem  ? Not  one 
step.  The  dilemma  into  which  Hume  threw  Philosophy  remains 
the  same  as  ever.  As  I cannot  transcend  the  sphere  of  my  Con- 
sciousness, I can  never  know  things  except  as  they  act  upon  me 
— as  they  affect  my  Consciousness.  In  other  words,  a knowledge 
of  an  external  world  otherwise  than  as  it  appears  to  ray  Sense, 
which  transforms  and  distorts  it,  is  impossible. 

This  proposition  may  be  said  to  form  the  ground  of  Skepti- 


KEID. 


621 


cism.  Now,  we  ask,  how  is  that  proposition  affected  by  over- 
throwing the  ideal  theory  ? What  does  it  signify  whether  the 
“affections  of  my  consciousness”  be  regarded  as  “images”  or 
not  ? They  do  not  remain  less  purely  subjective  which  ever  way 
we  regard  them.  They  are  changes  in  me.  The  main  position 
of  Skepticism  is  precisely  this  subjectivity  of  knowledge.  Be- 
cause we  cannot  transcend  consciousness,  we  can  never  know 
things  per  se.  Reid  acknowledges  that  we  cannot  know  things 
per  se ; but  he  says  that  we  must  believe  in  them,  because  in 
what  we  do  know  their  existence  is  suggested.  This  is  exactly 
the  opinion  of  Locke ; nay  more,  it  is  the  doctrine  of  Hume : for 
he  says  that  we  do  believe  in  an  external  world,  though  we  have 
no  good  reason  for  doing  so.  Sir  J.  Mackintosh  relates,  that  he 
once  observed  to  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  that  he  thought  Reid  and 
Hume  differed  more  in  words  than  opinions : Brown  answered, 
“Yes,  Reid  bawled  out  v'e  must  believe  in  an  outward  world; 
but  added,  in  a whisper,  we  can  give  no  reason  for  our  belief. 
Hume  cries  out  we  can  give  no  reason  for  such  a notion;  and 
whispers,  J own  we  cannot  get  rid  of  it.” 

Reid  ought  to  have  seen  that  his  refutation  of  the  ideal  theory 
left  Idealism  and  Skepticism  untouched  :*  for  either  doctrine  it 
matters  little  how  the  knowledge  be  acquired,  so  that  it  be  en- 
tirely subjective.  The  argument  brought  forward  by  Dugald 
Stewart — that  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  an  external  world 
is  one  of  the  Fundamental  Laws  of  Human  Belief — is  more  phil- 
osophical ; but  when  he  says  that  Berkeley’s  Idealism  was  owing 
to  the  unhappy  and  unphilosophical  attempt  of  Descartes  to 
prove  the  existence  of  the  world,  he  forgets  that  Idealism  was 
known  in  the  ancient  schools  long  before  any  one  thought  of 
proving  the  existence  of  matter.  Moreover,  although  Stewart’s 
formula  is  not  open  to  the  same  objections  as  Reid’s,  yet  it  leaves 
the  vital  question  untouched. 

No  one  doubts  that  we  believe  in  the  existence  of  an  external 

* In  fact,  Malebranche’s  Idealism,  which  is  very  similar  to  Berkeley’s,  ie 
founded  on  a theory  of  Perception  almost  identical  with  Reid’s. 

42 


522 


REID. 


world.  Idealism  never  questions  the  fact.  The  only  doubt  is 
whether  that  belief  be  objectively  as  well  as  subjectively  true. 
To  say  that  the  belief  iu  objective  existence  is  a Fundamental 
Law,  is  simply  saying  that  we  are  so  constituted  that  we  are 
forced  to  attribute  external  reality  to  our  sensations.  As  well 
say  we  are  so  constituted  that  fire  applied  to  our  bodies  will  give 
us  pain.  We  are  so  constituted.  What  then  ? Does  this  ad- 
vance us  one  step  ? Not  one.  We  have  still  to  seek  some  proof 
of  the  laws  of  our  constitution  being  the  measure  of  the  laws  of 
other  existences — still  to  seek  how  what  is  true  of  the  subjective 
must  necessarily  be  true  of  the  objective. 

Thus,  granting  to  Stewart  all  he  claims,  we  see  that  he  does 
not  attain  to  the  heart  of  the  question ; and,  strictly  speaking, 
he  does  not  touch  Berkeley  at  all ; he  only  touches  Hume. 
For  what  answer  can  it  be  to  Berkeley,  to  say  that  our  Belief  in 
matter  is  a Fundamental  Law,  not  to  be  questioned  ? Berkeley 
would  reply : “ Exactly ; I said  as  much.  I said  that  men  be- 
lieved their  senses,  and  believed  that  what  they  saw  was  out  of 
them.  This  is  the  law  of  human  nature : God  has  so  ordained 
it.  But  that  which  men  do  not  believe,  is  the  existence  of  an 
occult  substance,  an  imaginary  world  lying  underneath  all  ap- 
pearances. You  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  the  belief  in  this  sub- 
stance is  a Fundamental  Law  ? If  you  do,  you  must  be  mad.” 
Stewart’s  answer  is  thus  shown  to  be  quite  beside  the  mark. 

Reid  constantly  declares  that  no  reason  can  be  given  for  our 
belief;  it  must  be  referred  to  an  original  instinctive  principle  of 
our  constitution,  implanted  in  us  for  that  express  purpose.  If 
this  be  so,  we  ask,  upon  what  pretence  does  Reid  claim  ihe 
merit  of  having  refuted  Idealism  and  Skepticism  by  refuting  the 
deal  hypothesis?  If  instinct  and  not  reason  is  to  settle  the 
question,  then  has  the  ideal  hypothesis  nothing  to  do  with  it;  if 
the  refutation  of  the  ideal  hypothesis  sufficed,  then  has  instinct 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  “To  talk  of  Dr.  Reid,”  said  the  Quar- 
terly, in  its  review  of  Stewart’s  Second  Dissertation,  “ as  if  his 
writings  had  opposed  a barrier  to  the  prevalence  of  Skeptical 


REID. 


623 


pliiJosophy,  is  an  evident  mistake.  Dr.  Reid  successfully  refuted 
the  principles  by  which  Berkeley  and  Hume  endeavored  to 
establish  their  conclusions;  but  the  conclusions  themselves  he 
himself  adopted  as  the  very  premises  from  which  he  reasons. 
The  impossibility  of  proving  the  existence  of  a material  world 
from  ‘ reason,  or  experience,  or  instruction,  or  habit,  or  any  other 
principle  hitherto  known  to  philosophers,’  is  the  argument  and 
the  only  argument  by  which  he  endeavors  to  force  upon  us  his 
theory  of  instinctive  principles.” 

It  appears,  then,  that  inasmuch  as  Reid  declares  instinct  to  be 
the  only  principle  upon  which  we  can  found  our  belief  in  an  ex- 
ternal world,  his  argument  against  Berkeley  is  trebly  vicious. 
First,  because  the  belief  •was  never  questioned  ; secondly,  because 
although  we  must  act  according  to  our  instincts,  such  a neces- 
sity is  no  proof  that  our  beliefs  are  true  ; thirdly,  because  if  in- 
stinct, and  not  reason,  is  to  be  the  arbiter,  the  attack  on  the 
ideal  hypothesis  is  utterly  beside  the  question. 

Thus  we  see  that,  granting  to  Reid  the  glory  he  claims  of 
having  destroyed  the  ideal  hypothesis,  he  has  only  destroyed  an 
outpost,  fancying  it  to  be  the  fortress.  A few  words  on  his  own 
theory  of  perception  may  not  be  out  of  place  here. 

He  justly  enough  declared  the  ideal  hypothesis  to  be  gratui- 
tous. We  have  no  reason  for  supposing  that  the  mind  perceives 
images  of  things  instead  of  the  things  themselves.  But  he  over- 
looks, or  rather  denies,  the  fact  that  we  perceive  things  mediate- 
ly I he  says  we  perceive  them  immediately.  His  explanations 
are  contradictory  and  confused,  but  he  repeats  the  assertion  so 
often,  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  he  meant  to  say  we  perceive 
things  immediately  : the  mind  stands  face  to  face  with  the  thing, 
and  perceives  it  immediately,  without  any  medium  of  ideas, 
images,  eidola,  or  the  like.  In  this  we  believe  him  utterly  in  the 
wrong  ; his  battle  against  “ ideas”  carried  him  too  far.  It  is  one 
thing  to  say  that  loe  are  affected  by  the  things,  and  not  by  images 
of  things ; and  another  thing  to  say  that  we  perceive  things  im- 
mediately. The  former  is  correct ; the  latter  is  in  direct  contra- 


621 


diction  witli  all  we  know  of  perception ; and  Reid  constantly 
contradicts  himself  on  the  point. 

“ When  I attend,”  he  says,  “ as  carefully  as  I can  to  what 
passes  in  my  mind,  it  appears  evident  that  the  very  thing  Lsaw 
yesterday,  and  the  fragrance  I smelled,  are  now  the  immediate 
objects  of  my  mind  when  I remember  it.  . . . Upon  the  strictest 
attention,  memory  appears  to  me  to  have  the  things  that  are 
past,  and  not  present  ideas  for  its  objects.” 

This  is  his  position  against  the  ideal  hypothesis,  which  as- 
sumes that  nothing  is  perceived  but  what  is  in  the  mind  which 
perceives  it;  that  we  do  not  really  perceive  things  which  are 
external,  hut  only  certain  images  and  pictures  of  them  imprinted 
on  the  mind.  The  position  is  untenable.  The  very  thing,  the 
rose,  of  which  he  thinks,  is  not  an  immediate  object  at  all : it  is 
elsewhere.  The  fragrance  cannot  even  be  recalled ; that  is  to 
say,  cannot  be  felt  again,  but  only  thought.  All  we  can  remem- 
ber is  the  fact  of  having  been  affected  by  the  rose  in  a certain 
manner ; that  affection  we  call  fragrance ; we  cannot  recall  the 
affection.  Reid  could  hardly,  therefore,  have  meant  what  his 
words  literally  express.  Perhaps  he  meant,  that  when  we  think 
of  the  rose  and  the  fragrance,  the  object  of  which  we  think  is 
the  rose,  not  an  idea  of  the  rose.  But  what  a truism ! He 
says,  that  “ in  memory  the  things  that  are  past,  and  not  present 
ideas,  are  the  objects  of  the  mind.”  This  is  either  a needless 
truism  or  a falsism.  Let  us  alter  the  sentence  thus — “ In  mem- 
ory the  things  thought  q/are  not  themselves  present  to  the  mind, 
but  the  thoughts  only  are  present  to  it.”  Reid  would  not  dis- 
pute this — could  not  dispute  it ; yet  it  is  only  a more  guarded 
statement  of  the  ideal  hypothesis  ; it  substitutes  “ thoughts”  for 
“ideas.”  He  was  misled  by  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  “ object,” 
which  he  uses  as  if  meaning  simply  what  the  mind  is  thinking 
of;  and  of  course  the  mind  thinks  of  the  thing,  and  not  of  the 
idea.  But  the  ideal  hypothesis  takes  “object”  to  be  that  which 
is  immediately  present  to — face  to  face — with  the  mind,  viz.,  an 
idea,  or  thought ; and  of  course  the  mind  thinks  by  its  thoughts  : 


KEID. 


625 


A may  think  about  the  thing,  but  it  is  through  the  medium 
thought. 

The  difference  is  this : — The  Idealist  says,  that  when  things 
affect  us,  our  sensations  are  what  we  perceive,  and  not  the  things 
producing  those  sensations.  Eeid  says,  we  feel  our  sensations, 
but  therewith  also  we  perceive  the  things.  The  Idealist  further 
says,  that  when  we  think  of  things,  the  immediate  object  face  to 
face  with  the  mind  is  not  a thing  but  an  idea  (thought).  Eeid 
says  the  object  is  the  very  thing : which  is  either  an  absurdity, 
or  else  does  not  differ  from  the  ideal  hypothesis. 

We  are  quite  ready  to  admit  that  the  pretended  separation 
of  thoughts  from  thinking,  and  the  making  thoughts  ' objects,’* 
is  vicious ; and  therefore  Eeid’s  language  is  perhaps  less  objec- 
tionable. But  we  must  confess  that  we  see  no  other  advantage 
he  gains  over  his  adversaries.  He  does  not  pretend  that  our 
sensations  are  at  all  like  their  causes ; nay,  he  fancies  that  he 
destroys  the  ideal  hypothesis  by  insisting  on  the  want  of  resem- 
blance between  matter  and  our  sensations.  He  says,  over  and 
over  again,  that  the  external  world  is  in  no  respect  like  our  sen- 
sations of  it.  “ Indeed,  no  man  can  conceive  any  sensation  to 
resemble  any  known  quality  of  bodies.  Hor  can  any  man  show, 
by  any  good  argument,  that  all  our  sensations  might  not  have 
been  as  they  are,  though  no  body,  nor  quality  of  body,  had  ever 
existed.”*  This  granted,  the  question  arises.  How  do  you  know 
any  thing  of  the  external  world  ? Eeid  answers,  “ It  is  owing  to 
an  original  instinct  implanted  in  us  for  that  purpose.”  Push  the 
question  further,  drive  him  into  a corner,  and  bid  him  tell  you 
what  that  instinct  enables  you  to  know  of  matter,  and  he  will 
answer,  “ In  sensation  there  is  suggested  to  us  a cause  of  that 
sensation  in  the  quality  of  a body  capable  of  producing  it.  This 
is  Locke’s  view. 

The  great  point  in  Eeid’s  theory  is,  that  with  our  sensations 
are  joined  perceptions.  “ The  senses  have  a double  province,”  ha 


Inquiry,  ch.  v.  § 2. 


626 


KEID. 


says ; “ they  furnish  us  with  a variety  of  sensations,  some  pleas 
ant,  others  painful,  and  others  indifferent ; at  the  same  time  they 
give  us  a conception,  and  an  invincible  belief  of  the  existence  of 
external  objects.  This  conception  and  belief,  which  nature  pro- 
duces by  means  of  the  senses,  we  call  ‘perceptions’^  This,  upon 
which  so  much  stress  is  laid  that  philosophers  are  said  to  have 
been  always  in  error  because  they  overlooked  it,  we  regard  as  a 
remarkable  instance  of  Reid’s  want  of  subtlety.  Neither  Berke- 
ley nor  Hume  denied  the  fact  of  our  belief  in  the  externality  of 
the  causes  of  sensations  : Berkeley  denied  that  these  causes  had 
an  occult  substratum ; Hume  denied  that  any  reason  could  be 
given  for  our  belief  in  their  externality.  What  force  then  has 
“ Perception  ?”  It  is  nothing  more  than  that  “ belief,”  accord- 
ing to  Reid ; though  to  call  perception  a belief  is,  to  say  the 
least,  a somewhat  inaccurate  use  of  language.  But  grant  all  he 
wishes,  and  you  grant  that  with  our  sensations  there  is  an  ac- 
companying belief  in  the  existence  of  an  external  cause  of  those 
sensations.  Berkeley  would  answer,  “Very  true;  but  that  cause 
is  not  unthinking  matter.”  Hume  would  answer,  “Very  true; 
but  we  can  give  no  reason  for  our  belief ; we  can  know  nothing 
of  the  cause.”  Reid  can  only  retort,  “Perception  is  belief:”  a 
retort  which  has  been  deemed  satisfactory  by  his  school ; which 
really  is  only  an  abuse  of  language ; and  which  moreover  has 
the  further  disadvantage  of  being  available  only  as  an  argument 
against  Hume ; for  against  Berkeley  it  is  powerless.  If  percep- 
tion is  belief,  and  we  perceive  an  external  world,  Hume  may  be 
answered  when  he  says  we  have  no  grounds  for  our  belief.  But 
Berkeley  is  not  answered.  He  says  that  we  do  believe  in  an  ex- 
ternal world ; but  that  world  is  not  a world  of  unthinking  mat- 
ter— it  is  a world  of  divine  agency.  Reid  would  not  pretend 
that  in  sensation  or  perception  we  can  distinguish  the  nature  of 
the  causes  which  affect  us ; he  constantly  tells  us  that  we  can- 
not know  what  those  causes  are,  but  only  that  there  are  causes, 


Essays  on  Intellectual  Powers,  ii.  ch.  xvii. 


EEID. 


627 


As  long  as  the  noumenal  world  is  removed  from  our  inspection, 
BO  long  must  Berkeley  remain  unrefuted  by  any  theory  of  per- 
ception. The  error  of  his  system,  as  we  endeavored  to  show,  is 
in  the  gratuitousness  of  his  assumption  with  respect  to  the  imme- 
diate agency  of  the  Deity. 

Reid  says,  that  if  we  grant  Berkeley’s  premise — viz.  “ we  can 
have  no  conception  of  any  material  thing  which  is  not  like  some 
sensation  in  our  minds” — then  are  the  conclusions  of  Idealism 
and  Skepticism  unanswerable.  This  premise  therefore  he  dis- 
putes. Now  attend  to  his  challenge  : — -“This  I would  therefore 
humbly  propose,  as  an  experimentum  crucis,  by  which  the  ideal 
system  must  stand  or  fall ; and  it  brings  the  matter  to  a short 
issue  : Extension,  figure,  and  motion  may,  any  one  or  all  of  them, 
be  taken  for  the  subject  of  this  experiment.  Either  they  are 
ideas  of  sensation,  or  they  are  not.  If  any  one  of  them  can  be 
shown  to  be  an  idea  of  sensation,  or  to  have  the  least  resemblance 
to  any  sensation,  I lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth  and  give  up  all 
pretence  to  reconcile  reason  to  common  sense  in  this  matter, 
and  must  suffer  the  ideal  skepticism  to  triumph.”*  It  was  not 
till  after  repeated  perusals  that  we  caught  the  significance  of 
this  passage ; and  are  not  quite  positive  that  we  have  understood 
it  now.  To  admit  it  to  have  any  force  at  all,  we  must  understand 
“ ideas  of  sensation”  as  “ images  of  sensation.”  Certainly,  exten- 
sion is  no  copy  of  any  one  sensation.  But  if  Reid  means  to  say 
that  the  idea  of  extension  is  not  the  result  of  complex  sensations 
which  a body  excites  in  us — if  he  means  to  say  that  the  idea 
of  extension  is  not  an  abstract  idea  by  which  we  express  a cer- 
tain property  of  bodies,  a property  known  to  us  only  through  sen- 
sation— then  must  we  cease  all  dispute,  and  leave  him  in  pos- 
session of  his  wonderful  discovery. 

Reid’s  theory  of  perception  may  be  thus  stated : — External 
objects  occasion  certain  sensations  in  us;  with  these  sensations 
we  perceive  the.existence  of  certain  qualities  capable  of  producing 


Inquiry,  ch.  v.  § 7. 


828 


KEID. 


them;  these  he  distinguishes  into  primary  and  secondary.  The 
primary,  he  says,  we  perceive  immediately  ; the  second,  mediately. 

And  this  is  the  theory  by  which,  with  the  aid  of  an  “ original 
instinct”  (some  instincts  then  are  acquired  ?),  he  is  supposed  to 
have  refuted  Idealism.  Any  one  may  see  that.  Berkeley  might 
readily  have  relinquished  his  ideal  hypothesis,  and  accepted 
Reid’s,  with  perfect  security  for  Idealism.  The  “ unknown 
causes,”  which  Reid  calls  “qualities,”  Berkeley  calls  “divine 
laws.”  The  difference  is  merely  nominal. 

This  much  with  respect  to  Idealism.  With  respect  to  Hume, 
the  theory  is  almost  as  harmless,  Hume  would  say,  “All  that 
is  given  in  sensation  is  sensation ; your  “ perception”  (which  you 
call  belief)  of  qualities  amounts  to  nothing  more  than  a suppo- 
sition— a necessary  one,  I admit;  but  I have  always  said  that 
our  belief  in  external  causes  of  sensation  was  an  irresistible  preju- 
dice ; and  my  argument  is,  that  we  have  nothing  but  the  pi'cju- 
dice  as  a proof — reason,  we  have  none.” 

Finally,  with  respect  to  Locke,  it  will  in  the  first  place  be  seen 
that  Reid’s  solution  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  that  given  by 
Locke ; in  the  second  place,  the  boasted  refutation  of  the  ideal 
hypothesis  is  always  supposed  by  Reid’s  school  to  be  a refutation 
of  Locke’s  view  of  the  origin  of  knowledge ; and  this  is  a very 
great  mistake.  Because  Berkeley  and  Hume  pushed  Locke’s 
system  to  conclusions  from  which  he  wisely  shrank,  it  has  been 
generally  supposed  that  his  account  of  the  origin  of  our  knowl- 
edge is  indissolubly  bound  up  with  the  ideal  hypothesis,  by  it  to 
stand  or  fall.  This  probably  is  the  meaning  of  the  vulgar  error 
that  Locke’s  view  of  knowledge  leads  to  atheism.  It  led  to 
Hume.  In  disproof  of  Reid’s  supposition  we  answer,  firstly. 
Idealism  is  not  indissolubly  bound  up  with  the  ideal  hypothesis, 
although  Berkeley  may  have  adopted  that  hypothesis ; secondly, 
Locke’s  system  is  altogether  independent  of  the  hypothesis,  and 
in  his  Review  of  the  doctrines  of  Malebranche  he  very  distinctly 
and  emphatically  denies  it.  The  force  of  this  observation  will 
better  be  appreciated  when  it  is  remembered  that  although 


EEID. 


629 


Locke’s  language  is  notoriously  unguarded  and  wavering,  all  his 
reasonings  are  founded  on  the  use  of  the  word  “ ideas”  as  synony- 
mous with  “ notions”  or  thoughts.” 

In  conclusion,  although  we  think  it  has  been  shown  that  the 
Common-Sense  Philosophy  egregiously  failed  in  answering 
Berkeley  and  Hume,  it  was  not  without  service  by  directing  the 
attention  of  mankind  more  exclusively  to  Psychology.  The 
phrases  so  complacently  used  by  Dugald  Stewart  to  express  the 
nature  of  his  inquiries,  namely  “inductive  metaphysics”  and 
“ experimental  philosophy  of  the  mind,”  are  perhaps  objection- 
able ; but  few  will  deny  the  value  of  his  Elements^  and  of  Brown’s 
Lectures^  works  so  popular  as  to  need  no  further  mention  here. 
The  Analysis  of  the  Mind^  by  the  late  James  Mill,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  the  development  of  Hartley’s  doctrine,  stripped 
of  its  physical  hypothesis,  is  less  known ; but  it  is  a work  of 
great  value,  and  would  long  ago  have  been  as  popular  had  it 
been  written  in  a more  engaging  manner.  No  one  interested  in 
these  inquiries  should  omit  studying  it.* 

The  philosophy  of  the  Scotch  School  was  a protest  against 
Skepticism.  It  failed ; but  another  protest  was  made  in  Ger- 
many, and  on  philosophical  principles.  That  also  failed,  but  in 
another  way ; and  the  attempt  was  altogether  more  worthy  of 
Philosophy.  The  reader  foresees  that  we  allude  to  Kant. 


* Since  the  first  edition  of  this  work.  Sir  W.  Hamilton  has  published  an 
edition  of  Eeid,  illustrated  and  enriched  by  notes  and  dissertations  of  incom- 
parable erudition  and  acuteness.  Eespecting  the  interpretation  Sir  William 
gives  to  Eeid’s  doctrines,  I will  only  say  that  he  has  shown  what  a subtle 
mind  can  read  into  the  philosophy  of  common  sense ; but  he  has  not  in  the 
least  produced  the  conviction  in  me  of  Eeid’s  having  meant  what  the  illus- 
trious successor  supposed  him  to  have  meant.  At  the  same  time  I will  add 
that  the  limits  of  my  work  having  restricted  me  to  the  consideration  of  Eeid’s 
contributions  to  Philosophy  (in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  term),  I have  not 
do«»e  justice  to  his  many  excellent  qualities  as  a teacher.  His  works  are  well 
wo'thy  of  diligent  study,  and  their  spirit  is  eminently  scientific. 


EIGHTH  EPOCH. 


RECURRENCE  TO  THE  FUNDAMENTAL  QUESTION  RESPECTING 
THE  ORIGIN  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

KANT. 

§ I.  Life  of  Kant. 

Immanuel  Kant  was  born  at  Konigsberg,  in  Prussia,  22cl 
April,  1V24.  His  family  was  originally  Scotch,  a circumstance 
which,  when  taken  in  conjunction  with  his  philosophical  con- 
nection with  Hume,  has  some  little  interest.  His  father  was  a 
saddler,  a man  of  tried  integrity.  His  mother  was  somewhat 
severe,  but  upright,  speaking  the  truth,  and  exacting  it.  Kant 
was  eaily  bred  in  a love  of  truth,  and  had  before  him  such  ex- 
amples of  moral  worth  as  must  materially  have  contributed  to 
form  his  own  inflexible  principles. 

Madame  de  Stael  has  remarked,  that  there  is  scarcely  another 
example,  except  in  Grecian  history,  of  a life  so  rigorously  philo- 
sophical as  that  of  Kant.  He  lived  to  a great  age,  and  never 
once  quitted  the  snows  of  murky  Konigsberg.  There  he  passed 
a calm  and  happy  existence,  meditating,  professing,  and  writing. 
He  had  mastered  all  the  sciences ; he  had  studied  languages, 
and  cultivated  literature.  He  lived  and  died  a type  of  the  Ger- 
man Professor : he  rose,  smoked,  drank  his  coflee,  wrote,  lec- 
tured, took  his  daily  walk  always  at  precisely  the  same  hour. 
The  cathedral  clock,  it  was  said,  was  not  more  punctual  in  its 
movements  than  Immanuel  Kant.'^ 


* He  mentions  having  once  been  kept  two  or  three  days  from  his  pro- 
menade by  reading  Rousseau’s  Emile,  which  had  just  appeared. 


LIFE  OF  KANT. 


631 


He  was  early  sent  to  the  University.  There  he  began  and 
there  he  ended  his  career.  Mathematics  and  physics  principally 
occupied  his  attention  at  first;  and  the  success  with  which  he 
pursued  these  studies  soon  manifested  itself  in  various  publica- 
tions. He  predicted  the  existence  of  the  planet  Uranus ; and 
Herschel  himself,  after  discovering  it,  admitted  Kant’s  having 
first  announced  it. 

But  none  of  these  publications  attracted  much  attention  till 
the  renown  of  his  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  had  made  every 
thing  produced  by  him  a matter  of  interest.  Nor  did  the 
Critique  itself  attract  notice  at  first.  The  novelty  of  its  views, 
the  repulsiveness  of  its  terminology  and  style,  for  some  time  ob- 
scured its  real  value.  This  value  was  at  length  discovered  and 
made  known.  All  Germany  rang  with  praises  of  the  new  phi- 
losophy. Almost  every  “chair”  was  filled  by  a Kantist.  Num- 
berless books,  and  not  a few  pamphlets,  came  rapidly  from  the 
press,  either  attacking  or  defending  the  principles  of  the  Critical 
Philosophy.  Kant  had  likened  himself  to  Copernicus.  The 
disciples  likened  him  both  to  Copernicus  and  Newton ; for  he 
had  not  only  changed  the  whole  science  of  Metaphysics,  as 
Copernicus  had  changed  the  science  of  Astronomy,  but  had  also 
consummated  the  science  he  originated. 

The  Critique  was,  he  tells  us,  the  product  of  twelve  years’ 
meditation.  It  was  written  in  less  than  five  months.  These 
two  facts  sufficiently  explain  the  defects  of  its  composition.  In 
his  long  meditations  he  had  elaborated  his  system,  divided  and 
subdivided  it,  and  completed  its  heavy  and  useless  terminology. 
In  the  rapidity  of  composition  he  had  no  time  for  the  graces  of 
style,  nor  for  that  all-important  clearness  of  structure  which  (de- 
pending as  it  does  upon  the  due  gradation  of  the  parts,  and  upon 
the  clearness  with  which  the  parts  themselves  are  conceived) 
may  be  regarded  as  the  great  desideratum  of  a philosophical 
style. 

But  in  spite  of  these  defects — defects  which  would  have  been 
pardoned  by  no  public  but  a German  public — the  Critique  be 


632 


KANT. 


came  celebrated,  and  its  author  bad  to  endure  tbe  penalty  of 
celebrity.  He  was  pestered  with  numerous  calls  of  curious 
strangers,  who  would  not  leave  Konigsberg  without  having  seen 
him.  To  tbe  curious  were  added  the  admiring.  Enthusiastic 
scholars  undertook  long  journeys  to  see  their  great  master. 
Professor  Reuss  one  day  walked  into  his  study,  saying  brusquely 
that  “he  had  travelled  a hundred  and  sixty  miles  to  see  and. 
speak  with  Kant.”  The  visits  became  so  numerous,  that  in  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  he  contented  himself  with  merely  showing 
himself  at  the  door  of  his  study  for  a few  minutes. 

Kant  never  spoke  of  his  own  system,  and  from  his  house  the 
subject  was  entirely  banished.  He  scarcely  read  any  of  the  at- 
tacks on  his  works : he  had  enough  of  Philosophy  in  his  study 
and  lecture-room,  and  was  glad  to  escape  from  it  to  the  topics  of 
the  day. 

He  died  on  the  12th  of  February,  1804,  in  the  eightieth  year 
of  his  age,  retaining  his  powers  almost  to  the  last.  He  latterly, 
during  his  illness,  talked  much  of  his  approaching  end.  “I  do 
not  fear  death,”  he  said,  “ for  I know  how  to  die.  I assure  you 
that  if  I knew  this  night  was  to  be  my  last,  I would  raise  my 
hands  and  say,  ‘ God  be  praised  !’  The  case  would  be  far  differ- 
ent if  I had  ever  caused  the  misery  of  any  of  his  creatures.” 

For  a picture  of  Kant’s  daily  habits,  and  many  interesting 
traits  of  his  character,  the  reader  will  do  well  to  look  at  De 
Quincey’s  “ Last  Days  of  Immanuel  Kant,”  in  the  third  volume 
of  his  Miscellanies.  I cannot  find  space  for  such  details ; nor 
for  more  than  a passing  mention  of  Kant’s  relation  to  Sweden- 
borg, of  which  such  unjustifiable  use  is  often  made  by  the  ad- 
mirers of  the  latter,  who  proclaim,  with  emphasis,  that  Kant 
testified  to  the  truth  of  Swedenborg’s  clairvoyance.  He  did 
nothing  of  the  kind.  In  his  Letter  on  Swedenborg*  he  narrates 
two  of  the  reported  cases  of  Swedenborg’s  clairvoyance.!  and  says 


* Kleine  AnthropologiscTie  Schriften  (Theil  vii.  p.  5,  of  Eosenkrantz  and 
Schubert’s  ed.). 


kant’s  historical  position. 


633 


he  knows  not  how  to  disprove  them,  they  being  supported  by 
such  respectable  testimony ; but  be  nowhere  testifies  to  them 
himself;  and  in  Anthropologie,  §§  35  and  37,*  his  energetic 
contempt  for  Swedenborgianism  and  all  other  Schwarmerei  is 
unequivocally  expressed. 

§ II.  Kant’s  Historical  Position. 

There  is  a notion,  somewhat  widely  spread  through  England, 
that  Kant  was  a “ dreamer.”  He  is  regarded  as  a sort  of  Mystic ; 
and  the  epithet  “ transcendental"  is  made  to  express  the  superb 
contempt  which  common  sense  feels  for  the  vagaries  of  philoso- 
phers. The  “dreams  of  the  Kantian  philosophy,”  and  “tran- 
scendental nonsense,”  are  phrases  which,  once  popular,  now  less 
so,  are  still  occasionally  to  be  met  with  in  quarters  where  one 
little  expects  to  find  them. 

We  are  bound  to  say  that,  whatever  the  errors  of  Kantism, 
“ dreaminess”  or  “ mysticism”  are  the  last  qualities  to  be  predi- 
cated of  it.  If  its  terminology  render  it  somewhat  obscure  and 
repulsive,  no  sooner  is  the  language  comprehended,  than  all  ob- 
scurity falls  away,  and  a system  of  philosophy  is  revealed,  which 
lor  rigor,  clearness,  and,  above  all,  intelligibility,  surpasses  by 
many  degrees  systems  hitherto  considered  easy  enough  of  com- 
prehension. 

Convinced  that  the  system  of  Kant  is  plainly  intelligible,  and 
finding  that  neither  Kant  himself  nor  the  generality  of  his  ex- 
positors, have  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  repulsiveness  of  neol- 
ogisms and  a cumbrous  terminology,!  our  task  must  obviously 


• Kleine  Anthropologische  Schriften,  zweite  Abtheil.  p.  89  sq. 
t Since  this  was  written,  we  have  read  the  work  of  Victor  Cousin,  Letons 
mr  Kant,  vol.  i.  Paris,  184:2.  (Translated  into  English  hy  Mr.  Henderson, 
London,  1854.)  It  is  not  only  one  of  the  hest  expositions  we  have  seen ; it 
is  also  the  most  intelligihle.  The  chapter  on  Kant  in  M.  Barchou  de  Pen- 
hoen’s  useful  work,  Histoire  de  la  Philos.  Allemande  depuis  Leibnitz  Jusqu'a 
Eegel,  2 vols.  Paris,  1836,  may  also  he  read  with  advantage ; though  incom- 
plete, it  is  intelligihle.  Also  Morell’s  History  of  Speculative  Philos,  in  the 
Nineteenth  Century.  Readers  of  German  will  do  well  to  read  Chalyhaus’a 
Uistorische  Entwickelimg  der  Speculativen  Philos,  von  Kant  bis  Hegel  (Dres- 


63i 


KANT. 


be  to  give  an  exposition  of  the  system,  as  far  as  possible,  in  ordi- 
nary philosopbica'i  language ; and,  by  exhibiting  the  historical 
position  which  it  occupies,  connect  with  it  speculations  already 
familiar  to  the  reader. 

From  Spinoza  to  Kant  the  great  question  had  been  this : — • 
Have  we,  or  have  we  not,  any  Ideas  which  can  be  called  necessa- 
rily, absolutely  true  ? A question  which  resolved  itself  into  this : 
Have  we,  or  have  we  not,  any  Ideas  independent  of  Experience  ? 

The  answer  given  by  the  majority  of  thinkers  was,  that  we 
liad  no  ideas  independent  of  Experience ; and  Hume  had  shown 
that  Experience  itself  was  utterly  incompetent  to  assure  us  ot 
any  truth  not  simply  relative. 

Experience  irresistibly  led  to  Skepticism.  The  dilemma,  there- 
fore, which  we  signalized  in  the  First  Crisis  of  modern  Philoso- 
phy, again  presented  itself : Spinozism  or  Skepticism  ? The 
labors  of  so  many  thinkers  had  only  brought  the  question  round 
to  its  starting-point.  But  Spinozism  was  alarming — Skepticism 
scarcely  less  so.  Before  submitting  to  be  gored  by  either  horn 
of  the  dilemma,  men  looked  about  to  see  if  there  was  no  escape 
possible.  A temporary  refuge  was  found  by  the  Scotch  School 
in  Common  Sense,  and  by  Kant  in  Criticism. 

Kant  called  his  system  the  Critical  Philosophy.  His  object 
was  to  examine  into  the  nature  of  this  Experience  which  led  to 
Skepticism.  While  men  were  agreed  that  Experience  was  the 
source  of  all  knowledge,  Kant  asked  himself.  What  is  this  Ex- 
perience ? — What  are  its  Elements  ? 

The  problem  he  set  himself  to  solve  was  but  a new  aspect  of 


den,  1843).  (It  has  been  twice  translated  into  English  : by  Mr.  Tulk  and  by 
Mr.  Edersheim.)  Michelet’s  Geschichte  der  letzten  Systeme  der  Philos,  in 
Deutschland  von  Kant  bis  Hegel  (Berlin,  1837),  is  a learned  and  valuable 
work,  but  can  be  read  only  by  the  initiated.  More  generally  useful  than 
any  of  these  is  the  Hist,  de  la  Philos.  Allemande  depuis  Kant  jiisqu'a  Hegel, 
by  J.  Wilm,  Paris,  1856.  Kant’s  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  has  been  trans- 
lated by  Mr.  Meiklcjohn  {Bohn's  Phihsophical  Library,  1855)  with  so  inuci 
accuracy  and  ability  that  the  translation  may  be  read  with  entire  confidence 
which  can  rarely  be  said  of  translations  from  the  German. 


KANT  S HISTORICAL  POSITION. 


635. 


the  problem  of  Locke’s  Essay.  On  this  deep  and  intricate  ques- 
tion of  human  knowledge  two  opposite  parties  had  been  formed 
■ — the  one  declaring  that  all  our  knowledge  was  given  in  Expe- 
rience, and  that  all  the  materials  were  derived  from  Sensation, 
and  Eeflection  upon  those  materials  ; the  other  declaring  that 
Sensation  only  furnished  a portion  of  our  Experience.  This  sec- 
ond party  maintained  that  there  were  Elements  of  knowledge 
which  not  only  were  never  derived  from  Sensation,  but  which 
absolutely  transcended  all  sensation.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the 
idea  of  Substance.  Experience  only  informs  us  of  qualities  : to 
these  qualities  we  add  a substratum  which  we  call  Substance ; 
and  this  idea  of  a substratum,  which  we  are  compelled  to  add, 
Locke  himself  confesses  we  never  gained  through  any  sensation 
of  matter.  Other  ideas,  such  as  Causality,  Infinity,  Eternity, 
etc.,  are  also  independent  of  Experience  : ergo,  says  this  school, 
antecedent  to  it. 

In  the  course  of  inquiry,  the  untenableness  of  the  theory  of 
innate  ideas  had  become  apparent.  Descartes  himself,  when 
closely  pressed  by  his  adversaries,  gave  it  up.  Still  the  fact  of 
our  possessing  ideas  apparently  not  derivable  from  experience, 
remained ; and  this  fact  was  to  be  explained.  To  explain  it, 
Leibnitz  asserted  that  although  all  knowledge  begins  with  Sensa- 
tion, it  is  not  all  derived  from  Sensation ; the  mind  furnishes  its 
quota ; and  what  it  furnishes  has  the  character  of  universality, 
necessity,  consequently  of  truth,  stamped  on  it.  This  doctrine, 
slightly  modified,  is  popularly  known  as  the  doctrine  of  “ original 
instincts” — of  “ Fundamental  Laws  of  Belief.” 

Kant  also  recognized  the  fact  insisted  on  by  the  adversaries 
of  the  Sensational  School ; and  this  fact  he  set  himself  carefully 
to  examine.  His  first  object  was  therefore  a Criticism  of  the 
operations  of  the  mind. 

Kant  considered  that  his  conception  of  a purely  critical  phi- 
losophy was  entirely  original.*  No  one  before  him  had  thought 


* And  Sir  W . Hamilton  repeats  the  statement : Discussions,  p.  15. 


636 


KANT. 


of  thus  subjecting  Reason  itself  to  a thoroughly  ciltical  in\esti' 
gation,  ill  order  to  reach  answers  to  such  questions  as  : Are  a 
priori  synthetic  judgments  possible  ? Is  a science  of  Metaphys- 
ics possible  ? Certainly  no  one  had  isolated  the  a priori  ele- 
ments of  knowledge  from  those  given  in  Experience,  as  Kant 
isolated  them,  to  build  a system  thereon  ; but  the  whole  tend- 
ency of  speculative  development  since  Hobbes,  had  been,  as 
we  have  seen,  towards  the  investigation  of  the  grounds  of  cer- 
titude. 

On  interrogating  his  Consciousness,  Kant  found  that  neither 
of  the  two  ordinary  explanations  would  account  for  the  phenom- 
ena : the  abstract  Ideas  we  have,  such  as  Time,  Space,  Causal- 
ity, etc.,  could  not  be  resolved  into  Experience  alone  : nor,  on 
the  other  hand,  although  d priori,  could  they  be  supposed  ab- 
solutely independent  of  Experieuce,  since  they  are,  as  it  were, 
only  ihe  forms  (necessary  conditions)  of  our  Experience. 

There  are  not  two  sources  of  Knowledge,  said  he : on  the  one 
side,  external  objects,  and  on  the  other,  human  understanding. 
Knowledge  has  but  one  source,  and  that  is  the  union  of  object 
and  subject.  Thus,  water  is  the  union  of  oxygen  and  hydrogen  ; 
but  you  cannot  say  that  water  has  two  causes,  oxygen  and  hy- 
drogen ; it  has  only  one  cause,  namely,  the  union  of  the  two. 

In  this  conception  the  existence  of  two  distinct  factors  is  as- 
fumed.  “ That  all  our  knowledge  begins  with  Experience,’'  he 
says,  “ there  can  be  no  doubt.  For  how  is  it  possible  that  the 
faculty  of  cognition  should  be  awakened  into  exercise  otherwise 
than  by  means  of  objects  which  affect  our  senses,  and  partly  ot 
themselves  produce  representations  ( Vorstellungen),  partly  rouse 
our  powers  of  understanding  into  activity,  to  compare,  to  con- 
nect; or  to  separate  these,  and  so  to  convert  the  raw  material  of 
our  sensuous  impressions  into  a knowledge  of  objects  which  is 
called  Experience  ? In  respect  of  time,  therefore,  no  knowledge 
of  ours  is  antecedent  to  Experience,  but  begins  with  it.  But 
although  all  our  knowledge  begins  with  Experience,  it  by  nc 
means  follows  that  all  arises  out  of  Experience.  For,  on  the  con- 


KANT’s  niSTOEICAL  POSITION. 


637 


\,rary,  it  is  quite  possible  that  our  empirical  knowledge  [Erfahr- 
ungserkenntniss)  is  a compound  of  that  which  we  receive  through 
impressions,  and  that  which  the  faculty  of  cognition  supplies 
from  itself  (sensuous  impressions  giving  merely  the  occasion),  an 
addition  which  we  cannot  distinguish  from  the  original  element 
given  by  sense,  till  long  practice  has  made  us  attentive  to  and 
skilful  in  separating  it.  It  is  therefore  a question  which  require? 
close  investigation,  and  is  not  to  be  answered  at  first  sight— 
whether  there  exists  a knowledge  altogether  independent  of  Ex 
perience,  and  even  of  all  sensuous  impressions.”* 

To  investigate  this  is  the  purpose  of  Criticism. 

The  whole  world  is  to  us  a series  of  Phenomena.  Are  these 
Appearances  the  production  of  the  Mind  to  which  they  appear  ; 
or  are  they  the  pure  presentation  of  the  things  themselves  ? 
Idealism  or  Eealism  ? Neither  ; yet  both.  The  Mind  and  the 
object  co-operating  produce  the  Appearance  or  sensuous  impres- 
sion. In  their  union  Perception  is  effectuated. 

The-  Mind  has  certain  materials  furnished  it,  and  on  these 
materials  it  imposes  certain  forms  or  conditions  of  its  own.  These 
forms  alone  make  perception  possible,  since  they  constitute  the 
modes  of  the  mind’s  operation.  If  we  had  only  sensations — that 
is,  supposing  objects  acted  upon  us,  and  we  did  not  also  act  upon 
them — the  result  would  be  no  more  than  that  of  the  wind  play- 
ing on  the  AHolian  harp ; Experience  would  be  impossible.  To 
make  Experience  possible,  the  mind  must  grasp  objects  in  a syn- 
thesis of  the  objects  and  the  forms  of  the  perceptive  power. 

Kant’s  Criticism  was  directed  against  Locke  on  the  one  hand, 
in  establishing  that  we  have  ideas  independent  of  Experience  ; 
and  against  Hume  on  the  other,  in  establishing  that  these  ideas 
have  a character  of  universality,  necessity,  and  irresistibility. 
But — and  the  point  is  important — his  Criticism  proved  that 
these  ideas,  although  universal  and  certain,  could  not  be  called 
absolutely  true  ; they  were  only  subjectively  true.  This  was  fall- 


43 


*■  Kritik,  Einleitung  (Translation,  p.  1). 


638 


KANT. 


ing  back  into  Hume’s  position  ; since  altliough  Hume  called  be- 
lief in  causality  the  effect  of  habit,  and  Kant  called  it  a law  of 
the  mind,  yet  both  agieed  in  denying  to  it  any  objective  truth  ; 
both  agreed  that  a knowledge  of  things  per  se  was  impossible. 

We  regard  the  result  of  Kant’s  investigation  of  the  elements 
of  Thought  as  nothing  less  than  a scientific  basis  for  Skepticism. 
He  likens  his  philosophical  reform  to  the  reform  introduced  into 
Astronomy  by  Copernicus.'"'  Finding  the  labors  of  men  unsatis- 
factory, Copernicus  bethought  him  that  perhaps  success  might 
crown  his  efforts  if  he  shifted  his  ground,  if,  instead  of  assuming 
that  the  sun  turned  round  the  earth,  he  were  to  assume  that  the 
earth  turned  round  the  sun.  So  Kant  says,  that  the  ordinary 
assumption  of  our  knowledge  following  the  order  of  external  ob- 
jects seemed  to  him  better  if  reversed,  and  if  we  were  to  assume 
that  the  objects  obeyed  the  laws  of  our  mental  constitution.  And 
he  calls  his  system  critical,  because  it  is  founded  on  an  examina- 
tion of  our  cognitive  faculties.  Both  the  name  and  the  compar- 
ison appear  to  us  erroneous.  An  examination  of  the  cognitive 
faculties  was,  as  we  have  often  said,  the  great  topic  of  philo- 
sophical speculation,  and  although  the  examination  of  Kant 
differed  somewhat  from  every  other  in  result,  it  in  nowise  differ- 
ed in  method.  Copernicus  positively  changed  the  point  of  view. 
Kant  did  nothing  of  the  kind  : his  attempt  to  deduce  the  laws  of 
the  phenomenal  world  from  the  laws  of  mind,  was  little  more 
than  the  attempt  of  Descartes  to  deduce  the  world  from  Con- 
sciousness ; it  is  the  same  as  the  attempts  of  Leibnitz  and  Berke- 
ley in  method  ; and  the  result  is  very  much  the  re  alt  obtained 
by  Hume,  namely,  that  we  can  know  nothing  but  our  own  ideas, 
we  can  never  know  things  per  se.  Kant,  after  analyzing  the 
operations  of  the  mind,  discovered  indeed  certain  principles  of 
certitude  ; but  he  admitted  that  those  principles  could  not  be 
applied  to  things  herjond  the  Mind ; and  that  all  within  the 
sphere  of  our  cognition  was  no  more  than  phenomenal.  He  re- 


* See  the  celebrated  second  Preface  to  the  Kritik. 


kant’s  histoeical  position. 


639 


views  his  investigation,  and  then,  declaring  that  he  has  gone  the 
round  of  the  domain  of  human  Understanding  and  measured  it 
exactly,  he  is  still  forced  to  ndmit  that  that  domain  is  only  an 
island.  Nature  has  assigned  to  it  invariable  limits.  It  is  the 
empire  of  Truth  ; hut  it  is  surrounded  by  a stormy  and  illimita- 
ble sea,  upon  which  we  discover  nothing  but  illusions.  There, 
on  that  sea,  the  navigator,  deceived  by  masses  of  ice  which  ap- 
pear and  disappear  successively  before  him,  believing  that  at 
every  moment  he  is  about  to  discover  land,  wanders  without  re- 
pose, guided  only  by  one  hope  ; he  is  the  plaything  of  the  stormy 
waves,  always  forming  new  plans,  always  preparing  himself  for 
new  experiences,  which  he  cannot  renounce,  and  yet  which  he 
can  never  obtain.* 

To  the  Skeptic  Kant  says,  “ No  : experience  is  not  a deceit ; 
human  Understanding  has  its  fixed  laws,  and  those  laws  are  true.” 

To  the  Dogmatist  he  says,  “But  this  Understanding  can  never 
know  Things  per  se.  It  is  occupied  solely  with  its  own  Ideas. 
It  perceives  only  the  Appearances  of  Things.  How  would  it  be 
possible  to  know  Noumena  ? By  stripping  them  of  the  forms 
which  our  Sensibility  and  Understanding  have  impressed  upon 
them  (^.  e.  by  making  them  cease  to  be  Appearances).  But  to 
strip  them  of  these  forms,  we  must  annihilate  Consciousness — we 
must  substitute  for  our  Sensibility  and  Understanding,  a faculty, 
or  faculties,  capable  of  perceiving  Things  per  se.  This,  it  is  obvi- 
ous, we  cannot  do.  Our  only  means  of  communication  with 
objects  are  precisely  this  Sensibility  and  this  Understanding, 
which  give  to  objects  the  forms  under  which  we  know  them.” 

To  the  Dogmatist,  therefore,  Kant’s  reply  is  virtually  the  same 
as  Hume’s.  He  proves  that  the  Understanding,  from  the  very 
nature  of  its  constitution,  cannot  know  Things  per  se.  The 
question  then  arises.  Have  we  any  other  Faculty  capable  ot 
knowing  Things  per  se  ? The  answer  is  decisive.  We  have  no 
such  Faculty. 


* Kritik,  b.  i.  cap.  ill. 


640 


KANT. 


Tlie  difference  between  Hume  and  Kant,  M'hen  deeply  consid 
ered,  is  this : Hume  said  that  the  Understanding  was  treach- 
erous, and,  as  such,  it  rendered  Philosophy  impossible.  Kant 
said  that  the  Understanding  was  not  treacherous,  but  limited ; 
it  was  to  be  trusted  as  far  as  it  went,  but  it  coidd  not  go  far 
enough ; it  was  so  circumscribed,  that  Philosophy  was  impos- 
sible. 

This  difference,  slight  as  it  may  appear,  led  to  important  dif- 
ferences in  the  application  of  Kant’s  principles.  The  mendacity 
of  Consciousness  maintained  by  Hume,  led  him  to  utter  Skep- 
ticism in  Philosophy  and  in  Eeligion,  as  subjects  on  which  reason 
could  not  pronounce.  The  veracity  of  Consciousness  (as  far  as 
it  went)  maintained  by  Kant,  was  a firm  and  certain  basis,  though 
a limited  one,  on  which  to  build  Eeligion  and  Morals,  as  we  shall 
see  hereafter.  Kant’s  critics  do  not  in  general  appear  to  be  aware 
of  the  consequences  resulting  from  his  exposition  of  the  veracity 
of  the  Understanding.  Yet,  as  the  battle  was  confessedly  between 
him  and  Hume,  it  might  have  been  suspected  that  he  would  not 
have  left  the  field  entirely  to  his  antagonist. 

The  reader  is,  we  trust,  now  prepared  to  follow  with  interest 
the  leading  points  of  Kant’s  analysis  of  the  mind.  In  giving  an 
indication  of  the  result  of  that  analysis,  before  giving  the  anal- 
ysis itself,  we  hope  to  have  so  far  interested  the  reader,  that  he 
will  read  the  analysis  with  sharpened  attention ; seeing  whither 
dry  details  are  leading,  he  will  not  deem  them  dry. 

And  first  of  the  famous  question : How  are  synthetic  judg- 
ments^ a priori,  possible  ? This  is  the  nut  Kant  has  to  crack  with 
Hume.  But  first  let  us  understand  Kant’s  language.  He  divides 
all  our  judgments  into  two  classes,  analytic  and  synthetic.  The 
analytic  judgment  is,  as  it  were,  but  a writing  out  of  our  expe- 
rience. When  we  say  that  a triangle  is  a figure  with  three  sides, 
or  that  a body  is  extended,  we  are  judging  analytically;  i.  e.  we 
are  adding  nothing  to  our  conception  of  body  or  triangle,  we  are 
only  analyzing  it.  The  synthetic  judgment,  on  the  contrary,  is 
when  we  predicate  some  attribute  of  a thing,  the  conception  of 


KANT'S  HISTORICAL  POSITION. 


641 


which  does  not  involve  that  attribute : such  as  that  a sti  aight 
line  is  the  shortest  road  between  two  points. 

There  are  two  classes  of  synthetic  judgments : those  a pos- 
teriori and  those  a priori.  The  former  result  from  experience ; 
e.  g.  gold  is  ductile.  We  must  absolutely  know  that  gold  is 
ductile,  before  we  can  predicate  ductility  of  gold.  But  the 
a priori  judgments  are  independent  of  experience  : e.g.&  straight 
line  is  the  shortest  road  between  two  points ; which  experience 
may  confirm,  but  which  is  recognized  as  true,  independent  of 
experience ; above  all,  it  has  a character  of  universality  which 
experience  could  not  bestow ; for  though  experience  may  show 
us  how  a straight  line  is,  in  many  instances,  the  shortest  road 
between  two  points,  it  cannot  prove  that  there  is,  absolutely,  no 
shorter  road  in  any  case. 

Hume  declared  that  our  experience  of  Cause  and  Effect  was 
simply  an  experience  of  antecedence  and  sequence  ; and  that  our 
attributing  a cause  to  any  effect  was  a mere  matter  of  habit. 

True,  replied  Kant,  in  the  fact  of  antecedence  and  sequence, 
causation  is  not  given ; but  inasmuch  as  causation  is  irresistibly 
believed  in,  the  idea  must  have  some  source.  If  it  is  not  given 
in  the  things  observed,  then  must  we  seek  it  in  the  observer.  In 
this  fact  of  causation  what  have  we  ? We  have  first  antecedence 
and  sequence ; ■v’e  have  next  an  attribute  of  causation  predicated 
of  them.  The  first  is  given  in  our  experience  ; the  second  is 
not  given  in  our  experience,  but  is  independent  of  it.  This  sec- 
ond is  therefore  an  a priori  synthetic  judgment.  “ It  must  either 
have  an  a priori  basis  in  the  understanding,  or  be  rejected  as  ? 
chimera.  For  it  demands  that  something.  A,  should  be  of  such 
a nature  that  something  else,  B,  should  follow  from  it  necessarily, 
and  according  to  an  absolutely  universal  law.  We  may  certainly 
collect  from  phenomena  a law,  according  to  which  this  or  that 
usually  happens,  but  the  element  of  necessity  is  not  to  be  found 
in  it.  Hence  it  is  evident,  that  to  the  synthesis  of  cause  and 
effect  belongs  a dignity  which  is  utterly  wanting  in  any  empir- 
ical synthesis ; for  it  is  no  mere  mechanical  synthesis,  by  means 


642 


KANT. 


» 


of  addition,  but  a dynamical  one ; that  is  to  say,  the  effect  is  not 
to  be  cogitated  as  merely  anne.xed  to  the  cause,  but  as  posited  by 
and  through  the  cause,  and  resulting  from  it.”^  This,  therefore, 
is  an  a priori  judgment.  By  means  of  such  judgments  we  are 
not  only  able  to  say  that  one  thing  is  the  cause  of  another,  but 
also  we  are  enabled  to  make  this  wide  generalization : Every  ef- 
fect must  have  a cause.  Here,  as  in  the  proposition  of  a straight 
line  being  the  shortest  road  between  two  points,  we  have  an  idea 
not  given  in  experience,  and  an  idea,  the  universality  of  which, 
experience  could  never  verify. 

We  are  thus  led  to  assert  that  the  Mind  does  add  something 
to  sense-experience ; and  that  what  it  adds  is  not  only  inde- 
pendent of  experience,  but  has  the  further  character  of  certi- 
titude  and  universality,  which  experience  can  never  claim.  The 
certainty  of  experience  is  always  limited ; it  never  can  have 
the  character  of  universality,  however  rich  it  may  be ; for  after 
a thousand  years  it  may  be  proved  erroneous.  Thus,  it  was  uni- 
versally believed  that  all  crows  were  black : a wide  experience 
had  established  it— yet  white  crows  were  found ; and  experience 
was  forced  to  acknowledge  it  had  been  in  error.  So  with  the 
motion  of  the  sun,  once  universally  believed,  because  founded 
upon  experience.  That  which  is  to  be  held  as  irresistibly  true, 
which  shall  be  universally  and  necessarily  maintained  by  all 
men,  cannot  have  its  origin  in  Experience,  but  in  the  constitution 
of  the  Mind.  Hence  the  truth  of  Mathematics ; not,  as  is  so  often 
said,  because  it  is  an  abstraction  of  Forms  and  Relations,  but 
because  it  is  founded  on  the  necessary  laws  of  our  mental  con- 
stitution. 

In  these  synthetic  judgments,  a priori,  there  is  a ground  of 
Certitude.  The  veracity  of  human  reason  reposes  on  that  Cer- 
titude. Although  therefore,  says  Kant,  we  can  never  know 
whether  our  conceptions  of  things,  per  se,  are  adequate,  we  can 
know  what  conceptions  all  men  must  form  of  them ; although 


♦ KntiTc,  b.  i c.  ii.  § 9 (Transl.,  p.  76), 


kant’s  histokical  position. 


64:3 


we  cannot  know  if  our  knowledge  has  any  objective  truth,  we 
can  be  certain  of  its  subjective  truth. 

A principle  of  Certitude  having  been  found,  nothing  further 
was  necessary  for  its  confirmation  than  to  ascertain  in  how  far 
this  principle  could  be  the  basis  of  a science.  Kant  showed 
that  it  formed  the  basis  of  all  science.  People  do  not  dispute, 
said  he,  respecting  Mathematics  or  Logic,  or  the  higher  branches 
of  Physics ; and  if  they  do  dispute,  they  end  by  agreeing.  But 
in  Metaphysics,  disputes  are  endless.  Why  is  this?  Simply 
because  Logic,  Mathematics,  and  the  higher  branches  of  Physics 
are  Sciences  of  Generalities;  they  do  not  occupy  themselves 
with  variable  and  contingent,  but  with  the  invariable  and  uni- 
versal properties.  Logic  is  composed  of  rules  which  are  reduci- 
ble to  certain  self-evident  propositions.  These  propositions,  re- 
duced to  their  principles,  are  nothing  more  than  the  laws  of  the 
human  mind.  These  laws  are  invariable  because  human  nature 
is  invariable.  Mathematics  is,  in  the  same  way,  the  study  of 
certain  invariable  properties,  which  do  not  exist  in  nature,  but 
which  are  conceptions  of  the  mind,  upon  data  furnished  by  na- 
ture, abstraction  being  made  of  all  that  is  variable  and  uncertain 
in  those  data : e.  g.  the  essential  properties  of  an  equilateral  tri- 
angle, abstraction  being  made  of  any  hody  which  is  triangular, 
and  only  the  properties  themselves  being  considered. 

In  physics,  since  the  time  of  Galileo,  men  have  seen  that  they 
are  judges,  not  the  passive  disciples,  of  nature.  They  propose  an 
a •priori  problem ; and,  to  solve  this  problem,  they  investigate 
nature,  they  make  experiments,  and  these  experiments  are  di- 
rected by  reason.  It  is  reason  that  they  follow,  even  when  oper- 
ating on  nature ; it  is  the  principle  of  that  reason  which  they 
seek  in  nature,  and  it  is  only  in  becoming  rational  that  physics 
become  a science.  Again  we  find  science  reposing  on  the  laws 
of  the  mind ! 

Thus,  the  laws  which  form  the  basis  of  logic,  mathematics, 
and  physics,  are  nothing  less  than  the  laws  of  the  human  mind. 
It  is,  therefore,  in  the  nature  of  the  human  mind  that  the  certi- 


641 


KANT. 


tude  of  all  the  sciences  is  to  be  found ; and  the  principles  of 
this  certitude  are  universality  and  necessity. 

Psychology  thus  becomes  the  groundwork  of  all  Philosophy ; 
to  Kant’s  Psychology  we  now  address  ourselves. 

§ III.  Kant’s  Pstchologt. 

It  has  been  shown  that  experience  does  not  furnish  the  whole 
of  our  knowledge ; 

That  what  it  does  furnish  has  the  character  of  contingency 
and  variability ; 

That  the  mind  also  furnishes  an  element,  which  element  is  an 
inseparable  condition  of  all  knowledge ; without  it  knowledge 
could  not  be ; 

That  this  element  has  the  character  of  universality  and  necessity. 

And  that  the  jrrinciple  of  all  certitude  is  precisely  this  univer- 
sality and  necessity. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  examine  the  nature  of  the  mind,  and 
to  trace  the  distinctive  characters  of  each  element  of  knowledge, 
the  objective  and  the  subjective.  Instead  of  saying,  with  the 
Sensational  School,  All  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  the  senses, 
Kant  said.  Half  of  all  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  the  senses : 
and  the  half  which  has  another  origin,  is  indissolubly  bound  up 
with  the  former  half.  Thus,  instead  of  saying  with  the  Carte- 
sians, that,  besides  the  ideas  acquired  through  the  sense,  we  have 
also  certain  ideas  which  are  innate,  and  irrespective  of  sense ; 
Kant  said  all  our  ideas  have  a double  origin,  and  this  twofold 
co-operation  of  object  and  subject  is  indispensable  to  all  knowl- 
edge. 

Let  us  clearly  understand  Kant’s  object.  He  calls  his  great 
work  the  Critique  of  the  Pure  Reason.  It  is  an  examination  of 
the  mind,  with  a view  to  detect  its  a priori  principles.  He  calls 
these  pure  because  they  are  a priori^  because  they  are  above  and 
beyond  experience.  Having  demonstrated  that  the  mind  has 
some  pure  principles — has,  some  ideas  which  were  never  given  in 
experience,  and  must  therefore  be  a priori — he  was  led  to  inquire 


rant’s  psychology. 


b'4{) 

how  many  the  mind  possessed.  In  his  Critique  therefore  we 
are  only  to  look  for  the  exposition  of  a priori  principles.  He 
does  not  trouble  himself  with  investigating  the  nature  of  percep- 
tion ; he  contents  himself  with  the  fact  that  we  have  sensations, 
and  with  the  fact  that  we  have  ideas  whose  origin  is  not  sensuous. 

The  Non-ego  and  the  Ego,  the  objective  world  and  the  sub- 
jective mind,  being  placed  face  to  face,  the  two  co-operate  to 
produce  knowledge.  We  are  however  here  only  concerned  with 
the  subject.  What  do  we  discover  in  it?  First,  a Sensibility — 
a power  of  being  affected  by  objects ; this  is  what  Kant  calls 
the  Receptivity  of  the  mind : it  is  entirely  passive.  By  it  the 
representations  of  objects  (i.  e.  sensations)  are  received.  Second- 
ly, an  understanding  {Ver&tand) — a firculty  of  knowing  objects 
by  means  of  the  representations  furnished  by  our  Sensibility : 
this  is  an  active  faculty ; in  antithesis  to.  Sensibility,  it  is  a 
Spontaneity, 

But  our  Sensibility,  although  passive,  has  its  laws  or  con- 
ditions ; and,  to  discover  these  conditions,  we  must  separate  that 
which  is  diverse  and  multiple  in  our  sensations  from  that  which 
remains  invariably  the  same.  The  objects  are  numerous  and 
various ; the  subject  remains  invariable.  Kant  calls  the  multi- 
ple and  diverse  element  by  the  name  of  material ; the  invariable 
element  by  the  name  of  form.  If  therefore  we  would  discover 
the  primary  conditions  of  our  Sensibility,  we  must  discover  the 
invariable  elements  in  all  sensations. 

Tliere  are  two  invariable  elements — Space  and  Time.  They 
are  the  forms  of  our  Sensibility.  Space  is  the  form  of  our  Sen- 
sibility, as  external ; Time  the  form  both  as  internal  and  ex- 
ternal. 

Analyze  sensations  of  external  things  as  you  will,  you  can 
never  divest  them  of  the  form  of  Space.  You  cannot  conceive 
bodies  without  Space ; but  you  can  conceive  Space  without 
bodies.  If  all  matter  were  annihilated,  you  must  still  conceive 
Space  to  exist.  Space  therefore  is  the  indispensable  condition 
of  sensation : the  form  of  external  Sensibility.  It  is  not  given 


646 


KAJSTT. 


in  the  materials  of  sensation ; since  you  may  conceive  the  objects 
annihilated,  but  cannot  conceive  the  annihilation  of  Space.  Not 
being  given  in  the  material,  it  must  therefoi'e  constitute  the  form. 

Similar  reasoning  proves  that  Time  is  also  the  form  of  our 
Sensibility,  considered  both  as  internal  and  as  external.  We 
cannot  conceive  things  as  existing,  except  as  existing  in  Time ; 
but  we  can  conceive  Time  as  existing,  though  all  things  were 
annihilated.  Things  subjected  to  our  Sensibility  are  subjected 
to  it  in  succession  ; that  is  the  form  of  our  Sensibility. 

Such  then  are  the  two  indispensable  conditions  of  all  sensa- 
tion— the  two  forms  with  which  we  invest  all  the  varied  mate- 
rials presented  to  us.  It  is  evident  that  these  two  ideas  of  Space 
and  Time  cannot  have  been  given  in  the  materials,  consequently 
are  not  deducible  from  experience ; ergo,  they  are  a priori,  or, 
as  Kant  calls  them,  pure  intuitions. 

Having  settled  this  point,  he  enters  into  his  celebrated  ex- 
amination of  the  question.  Have  Space  and  Time  any  objective 
reality  ? 

We  need  not  reproduce  his  arguments,  which  however  may 
be  studied  as  fine  dialectical  exercises,  but  content  ourselves  with 
giving  the  result.  That  result  is  easily  foreseen  : If  Space  and 
Time  are  the  forms  of  our  Sensibility,  and  are  not  given  in  ex- 
perience, not  given  in  the  materials  presented,  we  may  at  once 
assume  that  they  have  no  existence  out  of  our  Sensibility.  Kant’s 
reduction  of  Space  and  Time  to  formal  elements  of  thought 
without  corresponding  objective  reality,  has  been  refuted  by 
Herbert  Spencer,*  who  has  shown  that  the  experience-hypothe- 
sis better  explains  the  genesis  of  these  conceptions.  I must  not 
venture  to  interrupt  the  exposition  of  Kant  by  any  quotations, 
but  will  add  my  own  conviction  that  Space  and  Time  are 
objective  realities  in  the  sense  that  solidity,  color,  etc.,  are 
objective  realities ; in  other  words,  although,  as  we  conceive 
them,  they  are  purely  subjective,  and  do  not  exist  externally  as 


Principles  of  Psychology,  pp.  52-58. 


ttant’s  psychology. 


m 


the  Space  and  Time  which  exist  in  us,  nevertheless  some  external 
reality  there  is,  corresponding  to  our  subjective  state ; precisely 
as  there  must  be  some  corresponding  objects  of  solidity,  color, 
etc.,  otherwise  the  conceptions  of  solidity,  color,  etc.,  would 
never  have  been  formed. 

Eeturning  now  to  the  exposition,  we  must  follow  Kant’s 
analysis  of  the  forms  of  the  Understanding.  The  forms  of  Sensi- 
bility being  those  of  Space  and  Time,  we  must  pass  onwards  to 
the  higher  operations  of  the  mind.  The  function  of  the  Under- 
standing is  to  judge.  It  is  eminently  an  active  faculty ; and  by 
it  the  perceptions  furnished  through  our  Sensibility  are  elevated 
into  conceptions  [Begriffe).  If  we  had  only  Sensibility,  we 
should  have  sensations,  but  no  knowledge.  It  is  to  the  Under- 
standing that  we  are  indebted  for  knowledge.  And  how  are  we 
indebted  to  it  ? Thus : — the  variety  of  our  sensations  is  reduced 
to  unity — they  are  linked  together  and  made  to  interpret  each 
other  by  the  understanding.  A sensation  in  itself  can  be  noth- 
ing but  a sensation  : many  sensations  can  be  nothing  but  many 
sensations,  they  can  never  alone  constitute  conceptions.  But 
one  sensation  linked  to  another  by  some  connecting  faculty — the 
diversity  of  many  sensations  reduced  to  unity — the  resemblances, 
existing  amidst  the  diversity,  detected  and  united  together — is 
the  process  of  forming  a conception,  and  this  is  the  process  of 
the  Understanding,  by  means  of  imagination,  memory,  and  con- 
sciousness. 

Our  senses,  in  contact  with  the  external  world,  are  affected  by 
objects  in  a certain  determinate  manner.  The  result  Kant  calls 
a representation  ( Vorstellung')  in  reference  to  the  object  repre- 
sented ; an  intuition  (^Anscliauung)  in  reference  to  the  affection 
itself.  These  intuitions  are  moulded  by  the  Understanding  into 
conceptions ; the  sensation  is  converted  into  a thought. 

The  Understanding  is  related  to  Sensibility  in  the  same  way 
as  Sensibility  is  related  to  external  things.  It  imposes  certain 
forms  on  the  materials  furnished  it  by  Sensibility,  in  the  same 
way  as  Sensibility  imposed  the  forms  of  space  and  time  upon 


34:8 


KANT. 


objects  presented  to  it.  Those  forms  of  the  Understanding  are 
the  laws  of  its  operation. 

To  discover  these  forms  we  must  ask  ourselves,  What  is  the 
function  of  the  Understanding  ? — Judgment.  How  many  classes 
of  judgments  are  there  ? In  other  words,  What  are  the  invari- 
able conditions  of  every  possible  judgment  ? — They  are  four : 
quantity,  quality,  relation,  modality.  Under  one  of  these  heads,* 
every  judgment  may  be  classed. 

A subdivision  of  each  of  these  classes  follows; — 1.  In  judging 
of  any  thing  under  the  form  of  quantity,  we  judge  of  it  as  unity 
or  as  plurality ; or,  uniting  these  two,  we  judge  of  it  as  totality. 
2.  So  of  quality : it  may  be  reality,  negation,  or  limitation.  3. 
Relation  may  be  that  of  substance  and  accident,  cause  and  effect, 
or  action  and  reaction.  4.  Modality  may  be  that  of  possibility, 
existence,  or  necessity. 

Such  are  Kant’s  famous  Categories.  They  are  little  better 
than  those  of  Aristotle,  which  we  before  declared  to  be  useless. 
For  although  the  object  of  Kant  was  different  from  that  of  Aris- 
totle, as  Sir  W.  Hamilton  points  out  the  result  was  nothing 
but  a cumbrous  machinery  incompetent  to  aid  our  investigations, 
although  very  seductive  to  the  lovers  of  verbal  distinctions. 

In  those  Categories  Kant  finds  the  pure  forms  of  the  Under- 
standing. They  render  thought  possible  ; they  are  the  invaria- 
ble conditions  of  all  conception;  they  are  the  investitures  bestow- 
ed by  the  understanding  on  the  materials  furnished  by  sense. 

By  the  Categories,  he  declares  he  has  answered  the  second 
half  of  the  question.  How  are  synthetic  judgments,  a priori,  pos- 
sible ? The  synthetic  judgments  of  the  Categories  are  all  a 
priori.  But  we  have  not  yet  exhausted  the  faculties  of  the 
mind.  Sensibility  has  given  us  intuitions  (perceptions).  Un- 
derstanding has  given  us  conceptions,  but  there  is  still  another 
faculty — the  crowning  faculty  of  Eeason  ( Vernunft),  the  pure 
forms  of  which  we  have  to  seek. 


* Discyusaions,  p.  25. 


kant’s  psychology. 


649 


Understanding  is  defined,  the  faculty  of  judging  ( Vermogen 
der  TJrtheile) ; Reason  is  the  faculty  of  ratiocination — of  draw- 
ing conclusions  from  given  premises  ( Vermogen  der  Schl'usse). 
Reason  reduces  the  variety  of  conceptions  to  their  utmost  unity. 
It  proceeds  from  generality  to  generality  till  it  reaches  the 
unconditional.  Every  conception  must  he  reduced  to  some 
general  idea,  that  idea  again  reduced  to  some  still  more  general 
idea,  and  so  on  till  we  arrive  at  an  ultimate  and  unconditional 
principle,  such  as  God. 

Reason  not  only  reduces  particulars  to  a general,  it  also  de- 
duces the  particular  from  the  general : thus,  when  I say,  “ Peter 
is  mortal,”  I deduce  this  particular  proposition  from  the  general 
proposition,  “ All  men  are  mortal and  this  deduction  is  evi- 
dently independent  of  experience,  since  Peter  being  now  alive,  I 
can  have  no  experience  to  the  contrary.  These  two  processes 
of  reducing  a particular  to  some  general,  and  of  deducing  some 
particular  from  a general,  constitute  ratiocination. 

Reason  has  three  pure  forms ; or,  as  Kant  calls  them,  borrow- 
ing the  term  from  Plato,  ideas.  These  are  wholly  independent 
of  experience ; they  are  above  Sensibility — above  the  Under- 
standing ; their  domain  is  Reason,  their  function  that  of  giving 
unity  and  coherence  to  our  conceptions. 

The  Understanding  can  form  certain  general  conceptions, 
such  as  man,  animal,  tree ; but  these  general  conceptions  them- 
selves are  subordinate  to  a still  more  general  idea,  embracing  all 
these  general  conceptions,  in  the  same  way  as  the  conception  of 
man  embraces  several  particulars  of  bone,  blood,  muscle,  etc. 
.The  idea  is  that  of  the  universe. 

In  the  same  way  all  the  modifications  of  the  thinking  being — 
all  the  sensations,  thoughts,  and  passions — require  to  be  em- 
braced in  some  general  idea,  as  the  ultimate  ground  and  possi 
bility  for  these  modifications,  as  the  noumenon  of  these  phe- 
nomena. This  idea  is  that  of  an  ego — of  a personality — of  a 
soul,  in  short. 

Having  thus  reduced  all  the  varieties  of  the  ego  to  an  uncon- 


650 


KAITT. 


ditioual  unity,  viz.,  soul,  and  having  also  reduced  all  the  varieties 
of  the  non-ego  to  an  uncondhional  unity,  viz.,  the  world,  his  task 
would  seem  completed  ; yet,  on  looking  deeper,  he  finds  that 
these  two  ideas  presuppose  a third — a unity  still  higher,  the 
source  of  both  the  world  and  of  the  ego — viz.,  God. 

God,  the  soul,  and  the  world,  are  therefore  the  three  ideas  of 
reason,  the  laws  of  its  operation,  \S\^  "pure  forms  of  its  existence. 
They  are  to  it  what  Space  and  Time  are  to  Sensibility,  and  what 
the  categories  are  to  Understanding. 

But  these  ideas  are  simply  regulative : they  operate  on  con- 
ceptions as  the  Understanding  ojrerates  upon  sensations ; they 
are  discursive,  not  intuitive ; they  are  never  face  to  face  with 
their  objects : hence  Reason  is  powerless  when  employed  on 
matters  beyond  the  sphere  of  Understanding  ; it  can  draw  noth- 
ing but  false,  deceptive  conclusions.  If  it  attemjjts  to  operate 
beyond  its  sphere — if  it  attempts  to  solve  the  question  raised  re- 
specting God  and  the  world — it  falls  into  endless  contradictions. 

“ While  we  regard  as  conclusive  Kant’s  analysis  of  Time  and 
Space  into  conditions  of  thought,”  says  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  “ we 
cannot  help  viewing  his  deduction  of  the  Categories  of  the  Un- 
derstanding and  the  Ideas  of  speculative  Reason  as  the  work  of 
a great  but  perverse  ingenuity  and  we,  who  do  not  even  regard 
the  analysis  of  Space  and  Time  as  conclusive,  may  echo  this 
ludgment  with  greater  emphasis. 

§ IV.  Consequences  op  Kant’s  Psychology. 

We  have  given  briefly  the  leading  points  in  Kant’s  analysis 
of  the  mind.  We  have  now  to  trace  the  consequences  of  that 
analysis. 

The  great  question  at  issue  was : JIave  we,  or  have  we  not,  any 
ideas  which  are  absolutely,  objectively  true?  Before  this  could 
be  answered,  it  was  necessary  to  answer  this  other  question ; 
Have  we,  or  have  we  not,  any  ideas  independent  of  experience  ? 
Because  if  we  have  not  such  ideas,  we  can  never  pretend  to 
solve  the  first  question  ; our  experience  can  only  be  of  that 


UUNSEQUENCEa  OF  KANt’s  PSYCHOLOGY.  651 

wliich  is  relative,  contingent,  subjective ; and  to  solve  the  ques- 
tion, we  must  be  in  possession  of  absolute,  necessary,  objective 
truth. 

Kant  answered  the  second  question  affirmatively.  His  Critique 
was  a laborious  demonstration  of  the  existence  of  ideas  not  de- 
rived from  experience,  and  in  no  way  resoh^able  into  experience. 
But  he  answered  the  first  question  negatively.  He  declared  that 
our  ideas  are  essentially  subjective,  and  cannot  therefore  have 
objective  truth.  He  did  not  deny  the  existence  of  an  external 
world ; on  the  contrary,  he  affirmed  it,  but  he  denied  that  we 
can  know  it : he  affirmed  that  it  was  essentially  unknowable. 

The  world  exists, — that  is  to  say,  the  noumena  of  the  various 
phenomena  which  we  perceive,  exist.  The  world  is  not  known 
to  us  as  it  is  per  se,  hut  as  it  is  to  us — as  it  is  in  our  knowledge 
of  it.  It  appears  to  us ; only  the  appearance  therefore  can  be 
known ; the  world  must  ever  remain  unknown,  because,  before 
being  known,  it  must  appear  to  us,  i.  e.  come  under  the  condi- 
tions of  our  Sensibility,  and  be  invested  with  the  forms  of  Space 
and  Time,  and  come  under  the  conditions  of  our  Understanding, 
and  be  invested  with  the  categorical  forms. 

Suppose  object  and  subject  face  to  face.  Before  the  subject 
can  be  afiected  by  the  object — that  is  to  say,  before  a sensation 
is  possible — the  object  must  be  modified  in  the  sensation  by  the 
forms  of  our  Sensibility ; here  is  one  alteration.  Then  before 
sensation  can  become  thought,  it  must  he  subjected  to  the  cate- 
gories of  the  Understanding : here  is  another  alteration.* 

Now,  to  know  the  object  per  se — i.  e.  divested  of  the  modifi- 
cations it  undergoes  in  the  subject — is  obviously  impossible  ; for 
it  is  the  subject  itself  which  knows,  and  the  subject  knows  only 
under  the  conditions  which  produce  these  modifications. 

Knowledge,  in  its  very  constitution,  implies  a purely  subjec- 
tive, ergo,  relative  character.  To  attempt  to  transcend  the  sphere 


♦ Compare  what  was  said  on  the  transformation  of  impressions  into  sensa 
tions,  pp.  611,  aq. 


652 


KANT. 


of  the  subjective  is  vain  and  hopeless ; nor  is  it  wise  to  deplore 
that  we  are  “ cabin’d,  cribb’d,  confined”  within  that  sphere  from 
which  we  never  can  escape.  As  well  might  the  bird,  when  feel- 
ing the  resistance  of  the  air,  wish  that  it  were  m vacuo,  thinking 
that  there  it  might  fly  with  perfect  ease.  Let  us  therefore  con- 
tent ourselves  with  our  own  kingdom,  instead  of  crossing  peril- 
ous seas  in  search  of  kingdoms  inaccessible  to  man.  Let  us 
learn  our  weakness.'^ 

First  Result. — A knowledge  of  things  joei*  se  [Dinge  an  sich) 
is  impossible,  so  long  as  knowledge  remains  composed  as  at 
present;  consequently  Ontology,  as  a science,  is  impossible. 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  if  we  never  knew  noumena  {Dinge  an 
sich),  how  do  we  know  that  they  exist?  Their  existence  is  a 
necessary  postulate.  Although  we  can  only  know  the  appear- 
ances of  things,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  the  things  exist. 
Thus,  in  the  case  of  a rainbow,  we  discover  that  it  is  only  the 
appearance  of  certain  drops  of  water : these  drops  of  water  again, 
although  owing  their  shape,  color,  etc.,  to  us,  nevertheless  exist. 
They  do  not  exist  as  drops  of  water,  because  drops  of  water  are 
but  phenomena;  but  there  is  an  unknown  something  which, 
when  affecting  our  Sensibility,  appears  to  us  as  drops  of  water. 
Of  this  unknown  something  we  can  affirm  nothing,  except  that 
it  necessarily  exists  because  it  affects  us.  We  are  conscious  of 
being  affected.  We  are  conscious  also  that  that  which  afi'ects  us 
must  be  something  different  from  ourselves.  This  the  law  of 
causation  reveals  to  us. 

A phenomenon,  inasmuch  as-  it  is  an  appearance,  presupposes 
a noumenon — a thing  which  appears, — but  this  noumenon,  which 
is  a necessary  postulate,  is  only  a negation  to  us.  It  can  never 
be  positively  known ; it  can  only  be  known  under  the  conditions 
of  sense  and  understanding,  ergo,  as  a phenomenon. 

Second  Result. — The  existence  of  .an  external  world  is  s 
necessary  postulate,  but  its  existence  is  only  logically  affirmed. 


Compare  Kant’s  fine  passage  at  the  close  of  the  Einleitung 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  KANt’s  PHILOSOPHY. 


653 


From  the  foregoing  it  appears  that  we  are  unable  to  know  any 
thing  respecting  things  per  se ; consequently  we  can  never 
predicate  of  our  knowledge  that  it  has  objective  truth. 

But  our  knowledge  being  purely  subjective  and  relative,  can 
we  have  no  certainty? — are  we  to  embrace  skepticism?  No. 

Third  Kesult. — Our  knowledge,  though  relative,  is  certain. 
We  have  ideas  independent  of  experience;  and  these  ideas  have 
the  character  of  universality  and  necessity.  Although  we  are 
not  entitled  to  conclude  that  our  subjective  knowledge  is  com- 
pletely true  as  an  expression  of  the  objective  fact,  yet  we  are 
forced  to  conclude  that  within  its  own  sphere  it  is  true. 

Fourth  Result. — The  veracity  of  consciousness  is  established. 

Fifth  Result. — With  the  veracity  of  consciousness,  is  estab- 
lished the  certainty  of  morals. 

It  is  here  we  see  the  importance  of  Kant’s  analysis  of  the 
mind.  Those  who  reproach  him  with  having  ended,  like  Hume, 
in  skepticism,  can  only  have  attended  to  his  Critiqae  of  the  Pure 
Reason,  which  certainly  does,  as  we  said  before,  furnish  a scien- 
tific basis  for  skepticism.  It  proves  that  our  knowledge  is  rela- 
tive ; that  we  cannot  assume  things  external  to  us  to  be  as  we 
conceive  them : in  a word,  that  Ontology  is  impossible. 

So  far  Kant  goes  with  Hume.  This  is  the  goal  they  both  at- 
tain. This  is  the  limit  they  agree  to  set  to  the  powers  of  the 
mind.  But  the  different  views  they  took  of  the  nature  of  mind 
led  to  the  difference  we  before  noted  respecting  the  certaintv  of 
knowledge.  Kant  having  shown  that  consciousness,  as  far  as  it 
extended,  was  veracious ; and  having  shown  that  in  conscious- 
ness certain  elements  were  given  which  were  not  derived  from 
experience,  but  which  were  necessarily  true;  it  followed  that 
whatever  was  found  in  consciousness  independent  of  experience 
was  to  be  trusted  without  dispute. 

If  in  consciousness  I find  the  ideas  of  God,  the  world,  and 
\drtue,  1 cannot  escape  believing  in  God,  the  world,  and  virtue, 
This  belief  of  mine  is,  I admit,  practical,  not  theoretical ; it  is 
founded  on  a certainty,  not  on  a demonstration  ; it  is  an  ultimate 
44 


354 


KANT. 


fact,  from  which  I cannot  escape — it  is  not  a conclusion  deduced 
by  reason. 

The  attempt  to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  God  is  an  impos- 
sible attempt.  Reason  is  utterly  incompetent  to  the  task.  The 
attempt  to  penetrate  the  essence  of  things — to  know  things  -per 
se — to  know  noumena — is  also  an  impossible  attempt.  And 
yet  that  God  exists,  that  the  world  exists,  are  irresistible  con- 
victions. 

There  is  another  certitude,  therefore,  besides  that  derived  from 
demonstration,  and  this  is  moral  certitude,  which  is  grounded 
upon  belief.  I cannot  say,  “ It  is  morally  certain  that  God  ex- 
ists,” but  I must  say,  “ I am  morally  certain  that  God  exists.” 

Here  then  is  the  basis  for  a Critique  of  the  Practical  Reason, 
an  investigation  into  the  Reason,  no  longer  as  purely  theoretical, 
but  as  practical.  Man  is  a being  who  acts  as  well  as  knows. 
This  activity  must  have  some  principle,  and  that  principle  is 
freedom  of  will. 

As  in  the  theoretical  part  of  Kant’s  system  we  saw  the  super- 
sensual  and  unconditioned  presupposed  as  existent  (under  the 
name  of  things  per  se),  but  not  susceptible  of  being  known  or 
specified ; so  in  this  practical  part  of  the  system  we  find  the 
principle  of  freedom  altogether  abstract  and  indeterminate.  It 
realizes  itself  in  acts. 

In  the  very  constitution  of  his  conscience,  man  discovers  the 
existence  of  certain  rules  which  he  is  imperatively  forced  to  im- 
pose upon  his  actions ; in  the  same  way  as  he  is  forced  by  the 
constitution  of  his  reason  to  impose  certain  laws  upon  the  mate- 
rials furnished  him  from  without.  These  moral  laws  have  like- 
wise the  character  of  universality  and  necessity.  The  idea  ot 
virtue  never  could  be  acquired  in  experience,  since  all  we  know 
of  virtuous  actions  falls  short  of  this  ideal  which  we  are  com- 
pelled to  uphold  as  a type.  The  inalterable  idea  of  justice  is 
likewise  found,  a priori,  in  the  conscience  of  men.  This,  indeed, 
has  been  denied  by  some  philosophers ; but  all  a priori  truths 
have  been  denied  by  them.  They  cite  the  cruel  customs  of  some 


kant’s  fundamental  pkinciples.  655 

«a\age  races  as  proo.fs  that  the  idea  of  justice  is  not  universal.* 
Thus,  some  tribes  are  known  to  kill  their  old  men  when  grown 
too  feeble ; and  they  test  their  strength  by  making  these  old  men 
hold  on  to  the  branch  of  a tree,  which  is  violently  shaken,  and 
those  that  fall  are  pronounced  too  weak  to  live.  But  even  here, 
in  spite  of  the  atrocity,  we  see  the  fundamental  ideas  of  justice. 
Why  should  they  not  abandon  these  aged  men  to  all  the  horrors 
of  famine  and  disease?  and  why  put  them  to  a test?  Look 
where  you  will,  the  varied  customs  of  the  various  nations  peo- 
pling the  earth  will  show  you  different  notions  of  what  is  just 
and  what  is  unjust ; but  the  a priori  idea  of  justice — the  moral 
law  from  which  no  conscience  can  be  free — that  you  will  find 
omnipresent. 

We  regret  that  our  space  will  not  permit  us  to  enter  further 
into  Kant’s  system  of  morality,  and  his  noble  vindication  of  the 
great  idea  of  duty.  But  enough  has  been  said  to  show  the  de- 
pendence of  his  Critique  of  the  Practical  Reason  upon  the  prin- 
ciples of  his  Critique  of  the  Pure  Reason  ; a dependence  which 
some  hasty  critics  have  pronounced  an  unphiloso2Dhical  compro- 
mise. 

§ V.  Examination  of  Kant’s  Fundamental  Principles. 

Kant’s  system  presents  three  important  points  for  our  consid 
eration : 

1.  It  assigns  a limit  to  the  powers  of  reason,  and  clearly  marks 
out  the  domain  of  scientific  inquiry.  In  this  it  is  skeptical,  and 
furnishes  skepticism  with  terrible  weapons. 

2.  It  proclaims  that  knowledge  has  another  origin  besides  ex- 
perience ; and  that  the  ideas  thus  acquired  are  necessarily  true. 
In  this  the  veracity  of  consciousness  is  established,  and  skep- 
ticism is  defeated. 

3.  It  founds  upon  this  veracity  of  consciousness  a system  of 
morals ; the  belief  in  a future  state,  and  in  the  existence  of  God. 


*■  Kant  alludes  to  Locke. 


656 


KANT. 


lu  the  course  of  our  exposition  we  abstained  from  criticism ; 
certain  that  it  would  lead  us  far  beyond  our  limits  to  venture  on 
an  examination  of  any  but  the  fundamental  principles.  The 
three  points  above  mentioned  will,  if  closely  examined,  be  found 
to  present  only  one  calling  for  discussion  here,  and  that  one  is 
the  second. 

For  the  admission  contained  in  the  first — viz.  that  we  are  un- 
able to  know  things  in  themselves — gives  up  Philosophy  as  a 
matter  beyond  the  reach  of  human  intelligence.  Skepticism  is 
made  the  only  result  of  ontological  speculation.  But  we  are 
guarded  against  such  a conclusion  entering  deeply  into  practical 
life,  by  the  demonstration  of  our  having  ideas  independent  of  ex- 
perience. This  is  the  second  point.  Were  this  second  point  to 
fall  to  the  ground,  nothing  but  skepticism  could  remain.  With 
the  second  point  must  stand  or  fall  the  third. 

The  second  point,  therefore,  becomes  the  central  and  vital 
point  of  Kant’s  system,  and  must  engage  our  whole  attention. 
All  such  subsidiary  criticism  as  is  current  in  Germany  and 
France,  respecting  the  impossibility  of  separating  the  objective 
from  the  subjective  elements  of  a knowledge  which  is  confessedly 
both  subject  and  object  in  one,  may  be  safely  set  aside.  Let  the 
possibility  be  granted ; the  vital  question  is  not  connected  with 
it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  illogicality  of  Kant’s  assuming 
for  the  practical  reason  that  which  he  denies  to  the  pure  reason. 
The  vital  point  in  his  system  is,  we  repeat,  the  question  as  to 
whether  we  have  ideas  independent  of  experience.  This  is  all- 
important. 

And  what  gives  it  its  importance  ? The  conviction,  that  if 
we  are  sent  into  this  world  with  certain  connate  principles  of 
truth,  those  principles  cannot  be  false ; that  if,  for  example,  the 
principle  of  causality  is  one  which  is  antecedent  to  all  experience, 
and  is  inseparable  from  the  mind,  we  are  forced  to  pronounce  it 
an  ultimate  truth. 

Let  us  meditate  on  this  question.  As  Kant  confessedly  was 
led  to  his  own  system  by  the  speculations  of  Hume  on  causation, 


kant’s  fundamental  pbinciples. 


657 


and  as  that  is  the  most  important  of  all  the  a priori  ideas  with 
which  the  mind  is  supposed  to  be  furnished,  we  will  content  our- 
selves with  examining  it.  If  that  be  found  dependent  on  expe- 
rience, all  the  a priori  ideas  must  be  likewise  given  up.  This  is 
the  nut  we  have  to  crack ; its  kernel  is  the  kernel  of  the  whole 
question.  Let  us  first  consider  these  Necessary  Truths,  as  Dr. 
Whewell  calls  a priori  ideas. 

That  two  parallel  lines  can  never  meet,  is  a Necessary  Truth. 
That  is  to  say,  it  necessarily  follows  from  the  definition  of  a 
straight  line.  To  call  it,  however,  an  a priori  truth,  a truth  in- 
dependent of  experience,  seems  to  us  a very  imperfect  analysis 
of  the  mind’s  operations.  An  attempt  is  made  to  prove  that  the 
idea  could  never  have  been  gained  through  experience,  because 
it  commands  universal  assent,  and  because  experience  itself  could 
never  give  it  necessity.  Dr.  Whewell’s  argument  is,  that  let  us 
follow  two  parallel  lines  out  as  far  as  we  can,  we  are  still  unable 
to  follow  them  to  infinity : and,  for  all  our  experience  can  tell 
us  to  the  contrary,  these  lines  may  possibly  begin  to  approach 
immediately  beyond  the  farthest  point  to  which  we  have  followed 
them,  and  so  finally  meet.  Now  what  ground  have  we  for  be- 
lieving that  this  possibility  is  not  the  fact  ? In  other  words, 
how  do  we  know  the  axiom  to  be  absolutely  true  ? Clearly  not 
from  experience,  says  Dr.  Whewell,  following  Kant. 

We  answer.  Yes ; clearly  from  experience.  For  our  experience 
of  two  parallel  lines  is  precisely  this : they  cannot  inclose  space. 
Dr.  Whewell  says  that,  for  all  our  experience  can  tell  us  to  the 
contrary,  the  lines  may  possibly  begin  to  approach  each  other  at 
some  distant  point ; and  he  would  correct  this  imperfect  expe- 
rience by  a priori  truth.  The  case  is  precisely  the  reverse.  The 
tendency  of  the  mind  unquestionably  is,  to  fancy  that  the  two 
lines  will  meet  at  some  point ; it  is  experience  which  corrects  this 
tendency.  There  are  many  analogies  in  nature  to  suggest  the 
meeting  of  the  two  lines.  It  is  only  our  reflective  experience 
which  can  furnish  us  with  the  proof  which  Dr.  Whewell  refers 
to  ideas  independent  of  all  experience.  What  proof  have  we 


658 


KANT, 


that  two  parallel  lines  cannot  inclose  space  ? Why  this : aa 
soon  as  they  assume  the  property  of  inclosing  space,  they  lose  the 
■property  of  parallelism — they  are  no  longer  straight  lines,  but  bent 
lines.  In  carrying  out  imaginatively  the  two  parallel  lines  into 
infinity,  we  have  a tendency  to  make  them  approach ; we  can 
only  correct  this  by  a recurrence  to  our  experience  of  straight 
lines ; we  must  call  up  a distinct  image  of  a straight  line,  and 
then  we  see  that  two  such  lines  cannot  inclose  space. 

The  whole  difficulty  lies  in  the  clearness  or  obscurity  with 
which  the  mind  makes  present  to  itself  past  experience.  “ Ee- 
frain  from  rendering  your  terms  into  ideas,”  says  Herbert  Spen- 
cer, “and  you  may  reach  any  conclusion  whatever.  The  whole 
is  equal  to  its  part,  is  a proposition  that  may  be  quite  comfort- 
ably entertained  so  long  as  neither  wholes  nor  parts  are  ima- 
gined.”* But  no  sooner  do  we  make  present  to  our  minds  the 
meaning  of  parallel  lines,  than  in  that  very  act  we  make  present 
the  impossibility  of  their  meeting,  and  only  as  the  idea  of  these 
lines  becomes  wavering,  does  the  idea  of  their  meeting  become 
possible. 

“Necessary  truths,”  says  Dr.  Whewell,  “are  those  in  which 
we  not  only  learn  that  the  pro2)Osition  is  true,  but  see  that  it  must 
be  true  ; in  which  the  negation  is  not  only  false,  but  impossible ; 
in  which  we  cannot,  even  by  an  effort  of  the  imagination,  or  in 
a supposition,  conceive  the  reverse  of  that  which  is  asserted. 
That  there  are  such  truths,  cannot  be  doubted.  We  may  take, 
for  example,  all  relations  of  Number.  Three  and  two  make  five. 
We  cannot  conceive  it  otherwise.  We  cannot  by  any  freak  of 
thought  imagine  that  three  and  two  make  seven.” 

That  Dr.  Whewell  cannot  by  any  freak  of  thought  now  ima 
gine  three  and  two  to  make  seven,  is  very  likely ; but  that  he 
could  never  imagine  this,  is  untrue.  If  he  had  been  asked  the 
question  before  he  had  learned  to  reckon,  he  would  have  ima- 
gined seven  quite  as  easily  as  five : that  is  to  say,  he  would  not 


Frincifka  of  Psychology,  p.  49. 


kaut’s  fundamental  peinciples. 


659 


have  known  the  relation  of  three  and  two.  Children  have  no 
intuitions  of  numbers:  they  learn  them  as  they  learn  other 
things.  “ The  apples  and  the  marbles,”  says  Herschel,  “ are  put 
in  requisition,  and  through  the  multitude  of  gingerbread-nuts 
their  ideas  acquire  clearness,  precision,  and  generality.”  But 
though,  from  its  simplicity,  the  calculation  of  three  added  to 
two,  is  with  a grown  man  an  instantaneous  act;  yet  if  you  ask 
him  suddenly  how  many  are  twice  365,  he  cannot  answer  till  he 
has  reckoned.  He  might,  certainly,  by  a very  easy  “ freak  of 
thought”  (i.  e.  by  an  erroneous  calculation),  imagine  the  sum- 
total  to  be  720;  and  although  when  he  repeats  his  calculation, 
he  may  discover  the  error,  and  declare  730  to  be  the  sum-total, 
and  say,  “It  is  a Necessary  Truth  that  365  added  to  365  make 
730,”  we  should  not  in  the  least  dispute  the  necessity  of  the 
truth,  but  presume  that  he  himself  would  not  dispute  that  he 
had  arrived  at  it  through  experience,  namely,  through  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  relations  of  numbers,  a knowledge  which  he  remem- 
bers to  have  laboriously  acquired  when  a boy  at  school. 

The  foregoing  remarks  having,  we  trust,  established  that  the 
truths  of  Geometry  and  Arithmetic,  which  form  one  class  of  the 
so-called  Necessary  Truths,  are  not  obtained  a -priori,  independ- 
ently of  Experience,  we  pass  on  to  the  other  class,  which  we 
would  call  Truth  of  Generalization. 

Our  example  shall  be  that  chosen  by  Kant : “ Every  effect 
must  have  a cause.”  This  is  not  a mere  writing  out  of  our  con- 
ceptions : it  is  not  a mere  explanation,  in  different  terms,  of  what 
we  mean.  It  is  a wide  generalization.  Experience  can  only  be 
experience  of  individual  causes  and  effects ; and  although  in  our 
conception  of  an  effect  the  conception  of  a cause  is  certainly  in- 
volved, and  in  so  far  the  judgment  may  be  supposed  an  analytic 
judgment,  yet  if  we  look  closer,  the  ambiguity  will  disappear. 
The  word  effect  implies  as  a correlative  the  word  cause.  But 
the  Thing  we  see  before  us  does  not  imply  the  existence  of  some 
other  Thing  which  caused  it ; and  our  judgment  that  it  must 
have  had  an  antecedent  cause,  is  purely  synthetic. 


660 


KANT. 


When  we  assert  that  every  effect  must  have  a cause,  we  assert 
that  which  no  experience  can  have  warranted.  Is  the  idea  there- 
fore acquired  through  some  other  channel  ? No  ; and  the  up- 
holders of  the  doctrines  of  Innate  Ideas,  Fundamental  Laws  of 
Belief,  Categories  cf  the  Understanding,  and  Necessary  Truths, 
appear  to  us  to  labor  under  a confusion  of  thought  which  a very 
little  well-directed  analysis  might  have  cleared  up.  The  con- 
fusion is  this  : — Our  experience  is  obviously  incapable  of  guaran- 
teeing the  truth  of  any  universal  and  necessary  idea.  But  to 
assume  therefore  that  the  idea  is  independent  of  experience,  is  to 
forget  that  what  experience  may  not  guarantee^  it  may  suggest; 
and  the  universality  and  necessity  of  our  ideas,  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  suggestions  of  the  understanding,  which  by  the 
law  of  its  operation  generalizes  from  particulars,  and  converts 
them  into  universals.  We  will  presently  explain  this  more  fully ; 
let  us  now  hear  Kant,  who  distinguishes  a pure  cognition  from 
an  empirical  cognition  by  this  mark  of  necessity  and  universality. 
“ Experience  no  doubt  teaches  us  that  this  or  that  object  is  con- 
stituted in  such  and  such  a manner,  but  not  that  it  could  not 
possibly  exist  otherwise.”  . . . “ Empirical  universality  is  only 
an  arbitrary  extension  of  the  validity  from  that  which  may  be 
predicated  of  a proposition  valid  in  most  cases  to  that  which  is 
asserted  of  a proposition  which  holds  good  in  all.  When,  on  the 
contrary,  strict  universality  characterizes  a judgment,  it  necessa- 
rily indicates  another  peculiar  source  of  knowledge,  namely,  a 
faculty  of  cognition  a prior-i.  Necessity  and  strict  universality, 
therefore,  are  infallible  tests  for  distinguishing  pure  from  empiri- 
cal knowledge,  and  are  inseparably  connected  with  each  other.”* 
And  elsewhere  ; “ If  we  thought  to  free  ourselves  from  the  labor 
of  these  investigations  by  saying,  ‘ Experience  is  constantly  offer- 
ing us  examples  of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  phenomena, 
and  presents  us  with  abundant  opportunity  of  abstracting  the 
conception  of  cause,  and  so  at  the  same  time  of  corroborating  the 


MnlfMung,  § ii.  (Traiisi.  p.  8). 


K ant’s  fundamental  principles.  661 

objective  validity  of  this  conception” — we  should  in  this  case  be 
overlooking  the  fact  that  the  conception  of  cause  cannot  arise  in 
this  way  at  all ; that  on  the  contrary  it  must  either  have  a basis 
in  the  Understanding,  or  be  rejected  as  a mere  chimera.  For 
this  conception  demands  that  something  (A)  should  be  of  such  a 
nature  that  something  else  (B)  should  follow  from  it  necessarily, 
and  according  to  an  absolutely  universal  law.  We  may  certain- 
ly collect  from  phenomena  a law,  according  to  which  this  or  that 
usually  happens,  but  the  element  of  necessity  is  not  to  be  found 
in  it.  Hence  it  is  evident  that  to  the  synthesis  of  cause  and 
effect  belongs  a dignity  which  is  utterly  wanting  in  any  empiri- 
cal synthesis.”* 

Referring  to  what  was  said  in  discussing  Hume’s  theory  of 
causation,  we  may  pass  on  to  Dr.  Whewell’s  re-statement  of 
Kant’s  views : 

“ That  this  idea  of  cause  is  not  derived  from  experience,  we 
prove  (as  in  former  cases)  by  this  consideration  : that  we  can 
make  assertions,  involving  this  idea,  which  are  rigorously  neces- 
sary and  universal ; whereas  knowledge  derived  from  experience 
can  only  be  true  as  far  as  experience  goes,  and  can  never  contain 
in  itself  any  evidence  whatever  of  its  necessity.  We  assert  that 
“ every  Event  must  have  a Cause  and  this  proposition  we 
know  to  be  true,  not  only  probably  and  generally  and  as  far  as 
we  can  see ; but  we  cannot  suppose  it  to  be  false  in  any  single 
instance.  We  are  as  certain  of  it  as  we  are  of  the  truths  of 
arithmetic  and  geometry.  We  cannot  doubt  that  it  must  apply 
to  all  events,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  in  every  part  of  the 
universe,  just  as  truly  as  to  those  occurrences  which  we  have 
ourselves  observed.  What  causes  produce  what  effects  ; — what 
is  the  cause  of  any  particular  event ; what  will  be  the  effect  of 
any  peculiar  process  ; these  are  points  on  which  experience 
may  enlighten  us.  But  that  every  event  must  have  some  cause, 
Experience  cannot  prove  any  more  than  she  can  disprove.  She 


Transcendental.  Logih,  § 9 (Transl.  p.  76). 


662 


KANT. 


can  add  nothing  to  the  evidence  of  the  truth,  however  often. she 
may  exemplify  it.  This  doctrine  then  cannot  have  been  acquired 
by  her  teaching  ; and  the  Idea  of  Cause  which  the  doctrine  in- 
volves, and  on  which  it  depends,  cannot  have  come  into  our 
minds  from  the  region  of  observation.”"* 

There  is  one  minor  point  in  this  argument  which  we  must  no- 
tice first.  Dr.  Whewell  says  that  the  proposition  “ Every  event 
must  have  a cause”  cannot  possibly  be  false  in  any  one  instance. 
We  think  there  is  one,  which  he  himself  would  admit;  but  to 
make  it  clear,  we  must  substitute  an  equivalent  for  “ event.” 
The  abstract  formula  of  causation  is  this  : “ Every  existence  pre- 
supposes some  Cause  of  its  existence  : ex  nihilo  nihil  Jit.''  And 
this  formula  is  employed  against  the  atheists,  to  prove  that  the 
world  could  not  have  made  itself  out  of  Nothing,  erffo  it  must 
have  had  a Cause.  Now  the  obvious  answer  has  often  been 
given,  namely,  that  the  Cause  itself  must  have  had  a Cause,  and 
so  on  ad  injinitum.  Nevertheless,  as  reason  repugns  such  an 
argument,  and  as  it  declares  that  somewhere  the  chain  of  causes 
and  effects  must  stop,  in  that  very  declaration  it  falsifies  the 
formula  of  causation — “ Every  existence  must  have  a cause.” 

Let  not  this  be  thought  quibbling ; it  is  only  an  exposure  of 
the  weakness  of  the  theory  of  causation.  If  that  theory  be  cor- 
rect— if  the  formula  is  a necessary  Truth,  objectively  as  well  as 
subjectively,  the  argument  against  atheism  falls  to  the  ground. 
For,  would  the  atheist  argue,  this  is  the  dilemma  : either  the 
chain  of  causes  and  effects  must  be  extended  to  infinity  ; or  you 
must  stop  somewhere,  and  declare  that  the  ultimate  Existence 
has  no  cause.  In  the  first  case  you  fall  into  unlimited  skepti- 
cism ; in  the  second  you  fall  into  atheism,  because  the  world  is 
an  Existence  of  which  we  are  assured ; why,  then,  is  not  it  the 
ultimate  Existence  ? You  have  no  right  to  assume  any  prior 
cause ; if  you  must  stop  somewhere,  it  is  more  rational  to  stop 
there. 


* Philos.  Ind.  etc.,  vol.  i.  p.  159. 


kant’s  fundamental  pkinciples. 


663 


This  dilemma  admits  of  but  one  escape-bole,  namely,  the  denial 
of  the  formula  “ Every  existence  presupposes  a cause”  being  any 
thing  more  than  a psychological  law.  Curiously  enough,  the 
only  loophole  is  in  the  doctrine  maintained  by  David  Hume — a 
doctrine  for  so  many  years  supposed  to  be  the  inlet  of  theologi- 
cal skepticism  ! 

Our  belief  in  the  formula  “ Every  event  must  have  a cause”  is 
founded  entirely  on  experience  : is,  indeed,  nothing  more  than 
our  experience  generalized. 

To  prove  this,  we  will  consider  a single  case  of  causation,  A 
child  burns  his  finger  in  the  candle  ; he  then  believes  that  a 
candle  will  always  burn  his  fingers.  Now  we  are  asked  how  it 
is  that  the  child  is  led  to  believ'e  that  the  candle  will  always 
burn  his  finger ; and  the  answer  usually  afforded  is,  that  “ he  is 
irresistibly  led  to  believe  in  the  uniformity  of  nature  in  other 
words,  the  idea  of  causality  is  a fundamental  idea. 

We  answer,  The  child  believes  the  candle  will  burn,  because 
the  experience  he  has  of  a candle  is  precisely  this  experience  ot 
its  burning  properties.  Before  he  had  burnt  his  finger,  his  ex- 
perience of  a caudle  was  simply  of  a bright  thing  which  set 
paper  alight.  Having  now  extended  Ms  experience.^  the  candle  is 
to  him  a bright  thing  which  sets  paper  alight,  and  which  causes 
pain  to  his  finger  when  placed  in  contact  with  it.* 

According  to  the  well-known  law  of  association,  the  fiame  of  a 
candle,  and  pain  to  the  finger  applied  to  it,  are  united,  and  form 
one  experience.  This  particular  act  of  causation  is  therefore 
nothing  but  a simple  experience  to  the  child  ; and  for  the  per- 
fection of  this  experience  it  is  in  nowise  needful  to  assume  that 
the  child  has  any  belief  in  the  “connection  of  events,”  or  in  the 
“ uniformity  of  the  laws  of  Nature.”  No  fundamental  idea  is 
necessary  for  the  particular  belief.f  Is  it  then  necessary  for  the 


* See  p.  486  sq.,  where  the  argument  is  stated  more  fully, 
t This  is  denied  by  the  thinkers  whom  we  are  now  combating : they 
assume  that  the  fundamental  idea  is  necessary ; but  this  is  a mere  assump 


664 


■KANT. 


belief  in  the  general  proposition — “ Every  effect  must  have  a 
cause  ?” 

When  Kant  and  the  Kantists  say  that  no  particular  act  of 
causation  can  be  inferred  a priori  (such,  for  example,  as  that  fire 
will  melt  the  solid  wax)  ; but  that  nevertheless  causality  itself 
can  be  inferred  a priori,  i.  e.  we  are  constrained  to  believe  that 
something  will  follow  the  application  of  fire  to  the  wax,  and  this 
a priori  judgment  is  independent  of  experience, — they  seem  to 
me  to  fall  into  the  error  of  confounding  the  general  with  the 
particular.  No  general  proposition  is  possible  except  as  an  ex- 
pression of  particular  propositions ; and  all  particular  proposi- 
tions are  the  expression  of  particular  experiences.  “ I'hat  all 
lions  are  carnivorous”  is  only  intelligible  as  a general  proposition 
after  one  or  more  lions  have  been  recognized  as  carnivorous ; 
that  “ every  effect  must  have  a cause”  is  only  conceivable  after 
many  particular  experiences  of  causes  and  effects.  No  particular 
act  of  causation  can  be  inferred  a priori,  because  for  each  par- 
ticular inference  we  need  the  basis  of  particular  experience ; but 
general  causation  seems  possible  to  be  inferred  a priori,  because 
in  the  full-statured  mind  general  causation  has  a basis  of  general 
experience.  I must  know  that  fire  does  melt  wax,  before  I can 
infer  that  it  will  melt  wax ; but  I can  infer  that  fire  will  do 
something  to  wax,  after  my  general  experience  of  fire  is,  that  it 
has  always  done  something  to  bodies.  This  general  inference  is 
founded  on  and  limited  by  general  experience,  in  the  same  way 
as  particular  inferences  are  founded  on  particular  experience. 
The  uncultured  mind  will  be  as  powerless  to  deduce  the  general 
inference,  as  the  cultured  mind  is,  to  deduce  the  particular  in- 
ference, a priori ; and  so  true  is  this,  that  only  philosophical 
thinkers  are  capable  of  steadily  believing  in  that  causality  which 
Dr.  Whewell  designates  as  a fundamental  idea. 

Thus,  belief  in  particular  laws  of  causation  is  no  more  than 
belief  in  our  experience ; and  if  we  are  asked  why  we  believe 


tion  made  for  the  purpose  of  saving  their  theory,  an  assumption  of  the  very 
point  at  issue. 


kant’s  fundamental  principles. 


665 


ihat  our  future  experience  will  resemble  the  past,  we  answer,  be- 
cause we  have  no  other  possible  belief  of  things  than  that  which 
is  formed  by  experience : we  cannot  possibly  believe  the  candle 
as  not  burning  us  in  future,  because  our  experience  of  a candle 
has  been,  that  it  does  burn,  and  our  beliefs  cannot  transcend  the 
experience  which  made  them. 

As  to  the  belief  in  universal  causation,  we  may  prove  in  vari- 
ous ways  that  it  is  the  result  of  a mere  act  of  generalization ; and 
this  very  act  itself  is  strictly  limited  by  experience : that  is  to 
say,  we  are  led  by  the  laws  of  our  mind  to  judge  of  the  unknown 
according  to  the  known.  Thus,  having  found  every  event  w’hich 
has  come  under  our  cognizance  produced  by  some  cause,  we  con- 
clude that  every  possible  event  must  have  a -cause.  We  judge 
of  the  unknow-n  by  the  known.  Familiar  illustrations  of  this 
generalizing  tendency  are  those  rash  judgments  formed  of  na- 
tions and  of  classes,  and  founded  on  the  experience  of  a single 
fact.  Thus  we  once  heard  it  gravely  asserted,  that  “ all  French 
babies  had  long  noses.”  The  person  asserting  it  had  seen  a 
French  baby  with  a long  nose.  Now  the  only  conception  of  a 
French  baby  in  this  person’s  mind  was  that  of  a baby  with  a 
long  nose.  That  was  the  type  according  to  which  all  unseen, 
unknown  babies  were  judged.  Not  being  a very  reflective  per- 
son, he  could  not  divest  himself  of  his  conception,  and  he  could 
not  believe  that  his  conception  was  not  true  of  all  French  babies. 
Had  he  never  seen  other  French  babies,  he  would  perhaps  have 
died  in  the  belief  that  they  all  had  long  noses;  unless  some 
better-informed  person  had  corrected  this  conception  by  his 
larger  experience.  So,  if  we  had  only  the  experience  of  one  fact 
of  causation,  we  should  always  believe  in  that  fact — we  should 
always  believe  that  all  candles  would  burn.  To  make  many 
similar  experiences  of  the  conjunction  of  cause  and  effect,  is  not 
only  to  have  many  beliefs  in  particular  acts  of  causation,  it  is 
also  to  collect  materials  for  a wide  generalization,  and  from  these 
known  conjunctions  to  pronounce  that  formula  of  universal  con- 
junction applied  to  unknown  and  yet  unborn  events. 


666 


KANT. 


This  latter  process,  however,  is  performed  by  few.  All  believe 
irresistibly  in  particular  acts  of  causation.  Few  believe  in  uni- 
versal causation ; and  those  few  not  till  after  considerable  reflec- 
tion. Philosophers,  indeed,  assure  us  that  this  belief  is  univer- 
sal; that  it  is  an  instinct;  a law  of  the  mind;  a Fundamental 
Idea.  If  philosophers  would  take  the  trouble  to  inquire  amongst 
intelligent  people,  they  would  find  that,  so  far  from  the  belief  in 
question  being  instinctive  and  irresistible,  the  great  majority 
have  no  consciousness  at  all  of  such  an  instinct — the  belief  never 
having  once  presented  itself  to  their  minds — the  proposition  re- 
quiring a great  deal  of  explanation  and  argument  before  it  can 
be  received  ; and  amongst  those  persons  many  would  absolutely 
refuse  to  admit  the"  truth  of  the  proposition.  Those  who  live 
only  amongst  philosophers  will  doubt  this.  We  can,  however, 
declare  that  it  has  more  than  once  come  within  our  experience. 
We  have  argued  with  a student  of  chemistry,  whom  we  found 
it  impossible  to  convince  that  the  law  “ Every  event  has  some 
cause”  is  universal.  He  not  only  could  conceive  it  to  be  other- 
wise in  the  moon ; but  he  looked  upon  our  argument  as  an  un- 
warrantable assumption.  The  mystery  of  this  was,  that  he  had 
never  read  any  metaphysics,  and  had  but  mediocre  powers  of 
ratiocination.  What  shall  we  say  to  an  instinctive  belief,  which, 
unlike  all  other  instinctive  beliefs,  does  not  spontaneously  present 
itself  to  our  consciousness ; and  when  presented,  is  with  the  ut- 
most difficulty  accepted ; and  accepted  only  by  some  ? Com- 
pare this  with  any  other  instinctive  belief — that  in  the  existence 
of  an  external  world,  for  instance — and  see  what  characters  the 
two  have  in  common.  Ask  a boor  if  he  believe  in  the  existence 
of  the  world,  and  he  will  think  you  mad  to  ask  him.  Ask  an 
ordinary  man  if  he  believe  that  every  effect  must  have  a cause, 
and  the  chances  are  that  he  will  tell  you  he  does  not  know ; you 
will  find  it  difficult  to  make  him  understand  the  necessity. 

Nay,  to  leave  ordinary  men,  and  to  confine  ourselves  to  phi- 
losophers, amongst  them  we  shall  find  that,  with  respect  to  one 
class  of  phenomena,  more  than  one-half  of  the  thinking  world 


kant’s  fundamental  principles.  667 

is  firmly  convinced  that  every  eflPect  does  not  imply  a cause : tha 
class  of  phenomena  referred  to  are  those  of  human  volitions.  All 
those  who  espouse  the  doctrine  of  Freedom  of  the  Will  declare 
that  all  our  volitions  are  self-caused, — that  is  to  say,  our  volitions 
are  not  caused  by  any  thing  external  to  themselves,  not  deter- 
mined by  any  prior  fact. 

If,  then,  speculative  men  can  be  led  to  believe  that  one  large 
class  of  phenomena  is  not  amenable  to  the  law  of  cause  and  ef- 
fect, what  becomes  of  the  universality  of  causation?  And  if 
speculative  men  can  conceive  the  laws  of  cause  and  effect  to  be 
absent  from  some  phenomena,  and  ordinary  men  do  not  con- 
ceive these  laws  to  be  universally  applicable,  what  becomes 
of  the  necessity?  And  if  the  mass  of  mankind  require  a con- 
siderable quantity  of  argument  and  explanation  to  make  them 
understand  the  proposition,  what  becomes  of  the  instinctive 
belief? 

It  is  argued  that  a belief  in  a particular  act  of  causation  is 
only  possible  on  the  assumption  of  a fundamantal  idea  of  causal- 
ity inherent  in  the  mind ; that,  although  a child  may  never  have 
had  the  formula  “ Every  effect  must  have  a cause”  presented  to 
his  mind,  nevertheless  this  formula  is  implicitly  in  his  mind, 
otherwise  he  would  have  no  reason  for  believing  in  the  particu- 
lar act ; it  must  exist  as  a fundamental  idea.  We  might  as 
rationally  argue  that  a child  cannot  have  an  idea  of  a man  with- 
out previously  having  a fundamental  idea  of  humanity. 

The  fallacy  lies  in  this : the  fundamental  idea  of  causality  is  a 
generalization.  Now,  of  course,  the  general  includes  the  partic- 
ulars ; but,  though  it  includes^  yet  it  does  not  precede  them,  and 
the  error  is  in  supposing  that  it  must  and  does  precede  them.  A 
boy,  as  Locke  says,  knows  that  his  whole  body  is  larger  than  his 
finger ; but  he  knows  this  from  his  perceptions  of  the  two,  not 
from  any  knowledge  of  the  axiom  that  the  “ whole  is  greater 
than  a part.”  Dr.  Whewell  would  say  that  he  could  not  have 
such  knowledge  unless  he  had  the  fundamental  idea ; whereas, 
we  side  with  Locke  in  asserting  that  the  mind  in  such  casea 


668 


KANT. 


never  begins  with  generalities,  but  ends  with  them  ; and  to  say, 
that  because  the  general  axiom  implies  the  particular  instance, 
or  that  the  particular  instance  implies  the  general  axiom,  there- 
fore the  axiom  is  independent  of  experience,  is  to  cheat  one’s  self 
with  words. 

The  belief  in  causation  is  belief  founded  upon  the  experience 
of  particular  acts  of  causation. 

The  irresistible  tendency  we  have  to  anticipate  that  the  future 
course  of  events  will  resemble  the  past,  is  simply  that  we  have 
experience  only  of  the  past,  and,  as  we  cannot  transcend  our  ex- 
perience, we  cannot  conceive  things  really  existing  otherwise 
than  as  we  have  known  them.  From  this  we  draw  a conclusion 
strikingly  at  variance  with  the  doctrine  maintained  by  Kant  and 
Dr.  Whewell.  We  say,  that  the  very  fact  of  our  being  com- 
pelled to  judge  of  the  unknown  by  the  known — of  our  irresisti- 
bly anticipating  that  the  future  course  of  events  will  resemble 
the  past — of  our  incapacity  to  believe  that  the  same  effects 
should  not  follow  from  the  same  causes — this  very  fact  is  a 
tiiumphant  proof  of  our  having  no  ideas  not  acquired  through 
experience.  If  we  had  a priori  ideas,  these,  as  independent  of, 
and  superior  to,  all  experience,  would  enable  us  to  judge  the  un- 
known according  to  some  other  standard  than  that  of  the  known. 
But  no  other  standard  is  possible  for  us.  We  cannot  by  any 
effort  believe  that  things  will  not  always  have  the  properties  we 
have  experienced  in  them ; as  long  as  they  continue  to  exist,  we 
must  believe  them  to  exist  as  we  know  them. 

Although  belief  in  particular  acts  of  causation  is  irresistible 
and  universal,  yet  belief  in  the  general  proposition  JEvery  effect 
must  have  a cause”  is  neither  irresistible  -nor  universal,  but  is 
entertained  only  by  a small  portion  of  mankind.  Consequently 
the  theory  of  it  priori  ideas  independent  of  all  experience,  re- 
ceives no  support  from  the  idea  of  Causality. 

In  a “ Letter  to  the  Author  of  the  Prolegomena  Logica,"  Dr. 
Whewell  has  restated  his  views,  to  meet  the  objections  of  his 
critics ; and  as  this  is  the  latest  development  of  the  Kantian 


kant’s  fundamental  principles. 


669 


ioctrine  which  I have  seen,  it  may  not  be  uninstructive  to  con- 
sider it. 

Dr.  Whewell’s  main  positions  are,  that  Necessary  Truths,  or 
Fundamental  Ideas,  are  independent  of  experience,  and  are  in- 
tuitions, which  are  seen  not  only  to  he  true,  hut  necessarily  true, 
because  their  contraries  are  inconceivable.  The  only  condition 
presupposed  is,  that  the  Ideas  be  clearly  conceived.  He  says : 
“ I lay  stress  on  the  condition  that  the  Ideas  must  be  clearly  and 
distinctly  possessed.  The  Idea  of  Space  must  be  quite  clear  in 
the  mind,  or  else  the  Axioms  of  Geometry  will  not  be  seen  to  be 
true : there  will  be  no  intuition  of  their  truth ; and  for  a mind 
in  such  a state,  there  can  be  no  Science  of  Geometry.  A man 
may  hav'e  a confused  and  perplexed,  or  a vacant  and  inert  state 
of  mind,  in  which  it  is  not  clearly  apparent  to  him,  that  two 
straight  lines  cannot  inclose  a space.  But  this  is  not  a frequent 
case.  The  Idea  of  Space  is  much  more  commonly  clear  in  the 
minds  of  men  than  the  other  Ideas  on  which  science  depends,  as 
F orce  or  Substance.  It  is  much  more  common  to  find  minds  in 
which  these  latter  Ideas  are  not  so  clear  and  distinct  as  to  make 
the  Axioms  of  Mechanics  or  of  Chemistry  self-evident.  Indeed, 
the  examples  of  a state  of  mind  in  which  the  Ideas  of  Force  or 
of  Substance  are  so  clear  as  to  be  made  the  basis  of  science,  are 
comparatively  few.  They  are  the  examples  of  minds  scientifi- 
cally cultivated,  at  least  to  some  extent.  Hence,  though  the 
Axioms  of  Mechanics  or  of  Chemistry  may  be,  in  their  own  na- 
ture, as  evident  as  those  of  Geometry,  they  are  not  evident  to  so 
many  persons,  nor  at  so  early  a period  of  intellectual  or  scientific 
culture.  And  this  being  the  case,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
persons  should  doubt  whether  these  Axioms  are  evident  at  all ' 
T should  think  that  it  is  an  error  to  assert  that  there  exist,  in 
such  sciences  as  Mechanics  or  Chemistry,  Fundamental  Ideas  fit 
to  be  classed  with  Space,  as  being,  like  it,  the  origin  of  Axioms.” 

Aware  that  many  of  these  intuitive  ideas  are  so  far  from  being 
universally  acknowledged  that  many  persons  can  conceive  the 
contraries,  he  adds  : 

45 


670 


KANT. 


“This  difficulty  has  been  strongly  inged  by  Mr.  Mill,  as  sup 
porting  his  view,  that  all  knowledge  of  truth  is  derived  from  ex- 
perience. And  in  order  that  the  opposite  doctrine,  which  I have 
advocated,  may  not  labor  under  any  disadvantages  which  really 
do  not  belong  to  it,  I must  explain,  that  I do  not  by  any  means 
assert  that  those  truths  which  I regard  as  necessary,  are  all 
equally  evident  to  common  thinkers,  or  evident  to  persons  in  all 
stages  of  intellectual  development.  I may  even  say,  that  some 
of  those  truths  which  I regard  as  necessary,  and  the  necessity  of 
whieh  I believe  the  human  mind  to  be  capable  of  seeing,  hy  due 
preparation  and  thought,  are  still  such,  that  this  amount  of  prep- 
aration and  thought  is  rare  and  peculiar ; and  I will  willingly 
grant,  that  to  attain  to  and  preserve  such  a clearness  and  subtlety 
of  mind  as  this  intuition  requires,  is  a task  of  no  ordinary  diffi- 
culty and  lahorh' 

What,  it  may  be  asked,  is  all  this  preparation,  and  labor,  but 
experience?  If  these  Fundamental  Ideas  are  “Intuitions”  whieh 
cannot  be  given  by  experience,  but  are  above  and  beyond  it, 
how  is  all  this  experience  needed  before  these  Necessary  Truths 
can  be  seen  to  be  true?  Dr.  Whewell  is  ready  with  his 
answer : 

“ That  some  steady  thought,  and  even  some  progress  in  the 
construction  of  Science,  is  needed  in  order  to  see  the  necessity 
of  the  Axioms  thus  introduced,  is  true,  and  is  repeatedly  asserted 
and  illustrated  in  the  History  of  the  Sciences.  The  necessity  of 
such  Axioms  is  seen,  but  it  is  not  seen  at  first.  It  becomes 
clearer  and  clearer  to  each  person,  and  clear  to  one  person  after 
another,  as  the  human  mind  dwells  more  and  more  steadily  on 
the  several  subjects  of  speculation.  There  are  scientific  truths 
which  are  seen  hy  intuition,  hut  this  intuition  is  progressive.  This 
is  the  remark  which  I wish  to  make,  in  answer  to  those  of  my 
critics  who  have  objected  that  truths  which  I have  propounded 
as  Axioms,  are  not  evident  to  all.” 

That  this  is  no  answer  at  all,  but  is  virtually  a concession  of 
the  very  point  in  dispute,  wih  be  seen  by  an  attentive  perusal  of 


Kant’s  fundamental  pkinciples. 


671 


the  following  passage,  wherein  he  brings  his  new  form  of  the 
doctrine  into  greater  distinctness : 

“An  able  writer  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  (No.  193,  p.  29) 
has,  in  like  manner,  said,  ‘Dr.  Whewell  seems  to  us  to  have  gone 
much  too  far  in  reducing  to  necessary  truths  what  assuredly  the 
generality  of  mankind  will  not  feel  to  be  so.’  It  is  a fact  which 
I do  not  at  all  contest,  that  the  generality  of  mankind  will  not 
feel  the  Axioms  of  Chemistry,  or  even  of  Mechanics,  to  be  ne- 
cessary truths.  But  I had  said,  not  that  the  generality  of  man- 
kind would  feel  this  necessity,  but  (in  a passage  just  before  quoted 
by  the  Reviewer)  that  the  mind,  under  certain  circumstances, 
attains  a point  of  view  from  which  it  can  pronounce  mechanical 
{ax^^  oih.%v)  fundamental  truths  to  he  necessary  in  their  nature, 
though  disclosed  to  us  by  experience  and  observationf 

If  these  truths,  said  to  be  intuitive  and  independent  of  expe- 
rience, are  by  Dr.  Whewell  confessed  to  be  “ disclosed  by  expe- 
rience,” there  can  be  but  one  point  of  separation  between  him 
and  his  critics ; and,  if  I have  understood  him  aright,  that  point 
is  the  character  of  “ necessity,”  which,  in  common  with  Kant,  he 
ascribes  to  these  truths.  The  fundamental  ideas,  when  seen,  are 
seen  to  be  not  only  true,  but  necessarily  true  ; and  in  this  neces- 
sity lies  their  distinctive  characteristic. 

I conceive  that  no  such  distinction  whatever  can  be  made  out 
between  truths  which  are  necessary  and  truths  which  are  contin- 
gent. All  truth  is  necessary  truth.  Although  all  opinions  are 
by  no  means  of  one  character,  some  being  evident,  soine  prob- 
able, some  very  uncertain  ; yet  all  truths  are  true.  That  “ fire 
burns”  is  a truth  as  “ necessary”  as  that  two  parallel  lines  cannot 
inclose  space.  That  sulphur  has  a greater  affinity  for  iron 
than  for  lead,  is  a truth  as  “necessary”  as  that  the  whole  is 
greater  than  a part.  That  iron-rust  is  owing  to  the  action  ot 
oxygen,  is  as  “ necessary”  a truth  as  that  two  and  two  make 
four.  It  is  our  knowledge  which  is  contingent,  not  the  truth 
itself.  We  may  be  in  error  when  we  believe  the  fact  of  sul- 
phur’s greater  affinity  for  iron  than  for  lead ; in  matters  so  ill- 


672 


KANT. 


uuderstood  as  chemical  actions,  error  is  very  conceivable,  and 
our  supposed  truth  may  turn  out  a misconception ; but  if  the  re- 
lation be  truly  stated,  the  truth  is  as  “ necessary”  as  that  two  and 
two  make  four.  The  whole  question,  therefore,  that  can  be 
raised,  is : Is  the  asserted  relation  true  ? and  not,  Is  the  truth 
necessary  ? 

To  make  this  clearer^  let  us,  instead  of  the  proposition  “ two 
and  two  make  four,”  substitute  “ seventy-two  and  one  hundred 
and  forty  make  two  hundred  and  twelve.”  In  the  one  case  error 
is  impossible ; by  no  freak  of  thought  can  we  conceive  two  and 
two  as  making  five ; the  truth  is  perceived  directly,  and  the  in- 
conceivability of  the  contrary  is  confessed.  In  the  latter  case 
error  is  very  possible ; unless  a careful  calculation  be  made,  the 
mind  may  fall  into  error,  i.  e.  conceive  the  contrary  of  what  is 
true.  But  iu  each  case  the  truth  expressed  is  the  relation  of 
numbers,  which  we  ascertain  by  experience.  So  also  the  prop- 
osition “ fire  burns”  is  a necessary  truth,  the  contrary  to  which 
is  as  inconceivable  as  the  contrary  of  “two  parallel  lines  can 
never  inclose  space.”  For  although  we  can  imagine  it  “ possible” 
that  fire,  under  some  circumstances,  should  not  burn,  we  can 
only  imagine  it  by  mentally  substituting  for  fire  some  other  thing 
called  by  that  name,  just  as  we  can  only  imagine  parallel  lines 
inclosing  space  by  mentally  bending  the  lines,  and  making  them 
other  than  parallel. 

Truths  are  nothing  but  perceived  relations ; some  of  these  re- 
lations are  so  simple,  are  so  universally  presented  to  our  expe- 
rience, that  we  cannot  conceive  them  to  be  otherwise ; and  thus 
no  freak  of  thought  will  enable  us  to  conceive  fire  not  burning, 
two  and  two  making  five,  or  parallel  lines  inclosing  space ; while 
other  relations  are  so  complicated,  or  so  unfamiliar,  that  we  very 
easily  conceive  the  possibility  of  their  being  otherwise.  The 
oxidation  of  substances  is  so  familiar  to  the  chemist,  that  he  can- 
not conceive  what  to  the  general  public  is  very  conceivable  ; the 
relations  of  lines  and  surfaces  are  so  familiar  to  the  geometer, 
that  he  cannot  conceive  the  contrary  of  Euclid’s  propositions ; 


kant’s  fundamental  pkinciples. 


673 


lo  him  they  are  irresistible  truths;  but  he  can  remember  the 
time  when  they  were  by  no  means  irresistible.  Dr.  Whewell 
explains  this  difference  by  the  difference  in  the  clearness  with 
which  the  geometer  “possesses  the  Idea  of  Space,”  a clearness 
only  to  be  obtained  through  great  labor  and  training  of  the  mind  ; 
and  we  think  no  philosopher  ever  propounded  any  other  expla- 
nation, certainly  no  philosopher  belonging  to  the  school  which 
derives  all  our  ideas  from  experience. 

The  distinction,  then,  between  the  so-called  Necessary  and 
Contingent  Truths,  is  not  that  the  former  are  independent  of  ex- 
uerience,  and  are  truths  seen  to  be  necessarily  true,  while  the  latter 
are  seen  to  be  contingently  true,  the  contraries  being  conceiv- 
able. All  truths  are  seen  to  be  necessarily  true,  if  they  are  seen 
to  be  true  at  all ; and  the  character  of  contingency  is  not  appli- 
cable to  the  relations  expressed  in  certain  formulas,  but  solely  to 
the  modes  in  which  we  got  at  those  formulas : the  contingency 
of  “ seventy-two  and  one  hundred  and  forty  making  two  hundred 
and  twelve,”  is  the  liability  of  our  miscalculating ; and  the  prop- 
osition is  a contingent  one  until  we  have  so  checked  our  calcu- 
lation as  to  be  certain  we  have  ascertained  the  true  relations. 
Thus  it  is  held  that  all  animals  with  incisor  teeth  are  carnivorous ; 
we  have  ascertained  it  by  our  universal  experience  of  carnivorous 
animals ; but,  strong  as  the  presumption  is  that  the  relation  is 
true,  we  are  forced  to  consider  it  a contingent  truth,  because 
there  is  a possibility  of  our  experience  some  day  detecting  an 
exception;  just  as  exceptions  have  been  detected  to  the  general 
relation  between  comparative  length  of  the  intestine  in  herbiv- 
orous, and  shortness  of  it  in  carnivorous,  animals,  but  we  never 
call  the  proposition  “ a whole  is  greater  than  its  part”  a contin- 
gent truth,  because  no  extension  of  experience  could  alter  rela- 
tions so  simple  and  so  universal;  we  cannot  call  “fire  burns  pa- 
per” a contingent  truth,  because  no  extension  of  experience  can 
alter  relations  so  simple : if,  by  way  of  exception,  a case  of  in- 
combustible paper  be  exhibited,  we  know  that  the  original  prop- 
osition meant  ordinary  paper,  and  not  paper  of  different  prop- 


674 


KANT. 


erties.  We  cannot  call  the  truth  “ sugar  is  sweet”  contingent,  be- 
cause any  extension  of  our  experience  which  made  us  acquainted 
with  sugar  not  sweet,  would  bring  forward  some  other  kind  of  thing 
than  that  which  we  designate  by  the  name  of  sugar.  We  can- 
not call  the  truth  “ iron  is  heavy”  contingent.  We  can  call  no 
truths  contingent  except  those  which  express  relations  either 
complicated  or  unfamiliar;  simplicity  of  relation  implying  di- 
rectness of  perception,  and  universality  of  experience  coercing 
the  mind  into  uniformity  of  expectation.  The  Fundamental 
Ideas  which  Dr.  Whewell  distinguishes  as  Necessary  Truths,  are 
nothing  more  than  ideas  fi'amed  in  our  minds  by  the  uniformity 
of  our  experience.  And  thus  we  return  to  the  old  position,  that 
experience,  and  experience  alone,  is  the  source  of  all  ideas. 

If  the  foregoing  arguments  are  valid,  what  becomes  of  Kant’s 
system?  We  are  forced  to  conclude,  that  inasmuch  as  his 
stronghold — the  existence  of  a priori  ideas — cannot  sustain  at- 
tack, the  entrance  of  the  enemy  Skepticism  is  inevitable.  Kant 
was  not  a skeptic  ; but  he  deceived  himself  in  supposing  that  his 
system  was  any  safeguard  from  Skepticism. 

The  veracity  of  Consciousness,  which  he  had  so  laboriously 
striven  to  establish,  and  on  which  his  Practical  Reason  was 
based,  is  only  a relative,  subjective  veracity.  Experience  is  the 
only  basis  of  Knowledge  ; and  Experience  leads  to  Skepticism. 


raXH  EPOCH. 


ONTOLOGY  EE-ASSERTS  ITS  CLAIM.— THE  DEMONSTRATION 
OF  THE  SUBJECTIVITY  ONCE  MORE  lEADS  TO  IDEALISM. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

FICHTE. 

§ I.  Life  of  Fichte. 

Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte  was  born  at  Rammenaii,  a village 
lying  between  Bischofswerda  and  Pulsniz,  in  Upper  Lnsatia,  on 
the  1 9th  May,  1762.* 

His  childhood,  of  which  many  touching  anecdotes  are  related, 
was  signalized  by  extraordinary  intellectual  capacity  and  great 
moral  energy.  He  was  a precocious  child,  and  long  before  he 
was  old  enough  to  be  sent  to  school  he  learned  many  things 
from  his  father,  who  taught  him  to  read,  and  taught  him  the 
pious  songs  and  proverbs  which  formed  his  own  simple  stock  ot 
erudition.  With  these  varions  studies  was  mixed  an  enchanting 
element — the  stories  of  his  early  wanderings  in  Saxony  and 
Franconia,  stories  to  which  young  Johann  listened  with  never- 
tiring  eagerness.  It  was  probably  the  vague  longings  which- 
these  recitals  inspired,  that  made  him  wander  into  the  fields, 
quitting  his  companions,  boisterous  in  mirth,  to  roam  away  and 
enjoy  the  luxury  of  solitude,  there  to  give  vent  to  the  indul- 


-*■  See  the  biography  by  Fichte’s  son — Fichte’s  Lelen  und  literarischet 
Briefwechsel,  2 vols.,  1836. 


(J7G 


FICHTE. 


gence  of  those  uuspeakable  longings.  This  pale  and  meditative 
child  is  at  ease  in  solitude.  He  stands  for  hours,  gazing  in  the 
far  distance,  or  in  mournful  yearning  at  the  silent  sky  over- 
arching him.  The  sun  goes  down,  and  the  boy  returns  home 
melancholy  with  the  twilight.  He  does  this  so  constantly  that 
neighbors  remark  it ; comment  on  it ; and,  in  after-years,  when 
that  boy  has  become  a renowned  man,  they  recur  to  it  with  sud- 
den pleasure,  not  forgetting  also  that  they  had  “ always  said 
there  was  something  remarkable  in  the  boy.” 

Fichte’s  progress  was  so  rapid  that  he  was  soon  intrusted  with 
the  office  of  reading  family  prayers ; and  his  father  cherished 
the  hope  of  one  day  seeing  him  a clergyman.  An  event  curious 
in  itself,  and  very  important  in  its  influence  on  his  subsequent 
career,  soon  occurred,  which  favored  that  hope,  and  went  far  to 
realize  it.  But  before  we  relate  it  we  must  give  a touching 
anecdote,  which  exhibits  Fichte’s  heroic  self-command  in  a very 
interesting:  lig:ht.'^ 

O O 

The  first  book  which  fell  into  his  hands  after  the  Bible  and 
Catechism,  was  the  renowned  history  of  Siegfried  the  Horned, 
and  it  seized  so  powerfully  on  his  imagination,  that  he  lost  all 
pleasure  in  any  other  employment,  became  careless  and  neglect- 
ful, and,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was  punished.  Then,  in 
the  spirit  of  the  injunction  which  tells  ns  to  cut  off  our  right 
hand  if  it  cause  us  to  offend,  Fichte  resolved  to  sacrifice  the  be- 
loved book,  and,  taking  it  in  his  hand,  walked  slowly  to  a stream 
flowing  past  the  house,  with  the  intention  of  throwing  it  in.  Long 
he  lingered  on  the  bank,  ere  he  could  muster  courage  for  this  first 
self-conquest  of  his  life  ; but  at  length,  summoning  all  his  reso- 
lution, he  flung  it  into  the  water.  His  fortitude  gave  way  as  he 
saw  the  treasure,  too  dearly  loved,  floating  away  forever,  and  he 
burst  into  a passionate  flood  of  tears.  Just  at  this  moment  the 
father  arrived  on  this  spot,  and  the  weeping  child  told  what  he 

* For  both  anecdotes  we  are  indebted  to  a very  interesting  article  on 
Fichte  which  appeared  in  the  Foreign  Quarterly  Review,  No.  71.  We  have 
abridged  tile  passages  ; otherwise  the  narrative  is  unaltered. 


LIFE  OF  FICHTE. 


677 


had  done ; but  either  from  timidity  or  incapacity  to  explain  his 
feelings,  was  silent  as  to  his  true  motive.  Irritated  at  this  treat- 
ment of  his  present,  Fichte’s  father  inflicted  upon  him  an  un- 
usually severe  punishment,  and  this  occurrence  formed  a fitting 
prelude  to  his  after-life,  in  which  he  was  so  often  misunderstood, 
and  the  actions  springing  from  the  purest  convictions  of  duty, 
were  exactly  those  for  which  he  had  most  to  suffer.  When  a 
sufldcient  time  had  elapsed  for  the  offence  to  be  in  some  measure 
forgotten,  the  father  brought  home  another  of  these  seducing 
books ; but  Fichte  dreaded  being  again  exposed  to  the  tempta- 
tion, and  begged  that  it  might  rather  be  given  to  some  of  the 
other  children. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  other  event  before  alluded  to 
occurred.  The  clergyman  of  the  village,  who  had  taken  a fancy 
to  Gottlieb  and  often  assisted  in  his  instruction,  happened  one 
day  to  ask  him  how  much  he  thought  he  could  remember  of  the 
sermon  of  the  preceding  day.  Fichte  made  the  attempt,  and,  to 
the  astonishment  of  the  pastor,  succeeded  in  giving  a very  toler- 
able account  of  the  course  of  argument,  as  well  as  of  the  texts 
quoted  in  its  illustration.  The  circumstance  was  mentioned  to 
the  Count  von  Hoffmansegg,  the  lord  of  the  village,  and  one  day 
another  nobleman,  the  Baron  von  Mittiz,  who  was  on  a visit  at 
the  castle,  happening  to  express  his  regret  at  having  been  too 
late  for  the  sermon  on  the  Sunday  morning,  he  was  told,  half  in 
jest,  that  it  was  of  little  consequence,  for  that  there  was  a boy  in 
the  village  who  could  repeat  it  all  from  memory.  Little  Gott- 
lieb was  sent  for,  and  soon  arrived  in  a clean  smock-frock  and 
bearing  a large  nosegay,  such  as  his  mother  was  accustomed  to 
send  to  the  castle  occasionally  as  a token  of  respect.  He  an- 
swered the  first  questions  put  to  him  with  his  accustomed  quiet 
simplicity  ; but  when  asked  to  repeat  as  much  as  he  could  recol- 
lect of  the  morning’s  sermon,  his  voice  and  manner  became  more 
animated,  and,  as  he  proceeded,  entirely  forgetting  the  presence 
of  the  formidable  company,  he  became  so  fervid  and  abundant 
m his  eloquence,  that  the  Count  thought  it  necessary  to  interrupt 


378 


FICHTE. 


him,  lest  the  playful  tone  of  the  circle  should  be  destroyed  by 
the  serious  subjects  of  the  sermon.  The  young  preacher  had 
however  made  some  impression  on  his  auditory ; the  Baron 
made  inquiries  concerning  him,  and  the  clergyman,  wishing  for 
nothing  more  than  an  opportunity  to  serve  his  favorite,  gave  such 
an  account  that  the  Baron  determined  to  undertake  the  charge 
of  his  education.  He  departed,  carrying  his  'protege  with  him, 
to  his  castle  of  Siebeneichen,  in  Saxony,  near  Meissen,  on  the 
Elbe ; and  the  heart  of  the  poor  village  boy  sank,  as  he  beheld 
the  gloomy  grandeur  of  the  baronial  hall,  and  the  dark  oak  for- 
ests by  which  it  was  surrounded.  His  first  sorrow,  his  severest 
trial,  had  come  in  the  shape  of  what  a misjudging  world  might 
regard  as  a singular  piece  of  good  fortune,  and  so  deep  a dejec- 
tion fell  on  him,  as  seriously  to  endanger  his  health.  His  patron 
here  manifested  the  really  kindly  spirit  by  which  he  had  been 
actuated  ; he  entered  into  the  feelings  of  the  child,  and  removed 
him  from  the  lordly  mansion  to  the  abode  of  a country  clergy- 
man in  the  neighborhood,  who  was  passionately  fond  of  children, 
and  had  none  of  his  own.  Under  the  truly  paternal  care  of  this 
excellent  man,  Fichte  passed  some  of  the  happiest  years  of  his 
life,  and  to  its  latest  day  looked  back  to  them  with  tenderness 
and  gratitude.  The  affectionate  care  of  this  amiable  couple,  who 
shared  with  him  every  little  domestic  pleasure,  and  treated  him 
in  every  respect  as  if  he  had  been  indeed  their  son,  was  always 
remembered  by  him  with  the  liveliest  sensibility,  and  certainly 
exercised  a most  favorable  infiuence  on  his  character. 

In  this  family,  Fichte  received  his  first  instruction  in  the  lan- 
guages of  antiquity,  in  which,  however,  he  was  left  much  to  his 
own  efforts,  seldom  receiving  what  might  be  called  a regular  les- 
son. This  plan,  though  it  undoubtedly  invigorated  and  sharpened 
his  faculties,  left  him  imperfectly  acquainted  with  grammar,  and 
retarded,  in  some  measure,  his  subsequent  progress  at  Schul- 
pforte.  His  kind  preceptor  soon  perceived  the  inefficiency  of  his 
own  attainments  for  advancing  the  progress  of  so  promising  a 
pupil,  and  urged  his  patron  to  obtain  for  Fichte  what  appeared 


LIFE  OF  FICHTE. 


679 


to  him  the  advantages  of  a high  school.  He  was  accordingly 
sent,  first  to  Meissen,  and  afterwards  to  the  seminary  at  Schul- 
pforte. 

There  the  system  of  fagging  existed  in  full  force,  and  with  its 
usual  consequences,  tyranny  on  the  one  side,  dissimulation  and 
cunning  on  the  other.  Even  Fichte,  whose  native  strength  of 
character  in  some  measure  guarded  him  from  evil  infiuences  that 
might  have  been  fatal  to. a mind  of  a feebler  order,  confesses  that 
his  life  at  Schulpforte  was  any  thing  but  favorable  to  his  integ- 
rity. He  found  himself  gradually  reconciled  to  the  necessity  of 
ruling  his  conduct  by  the  opinion  of  the  little  community  around 
him,  and  compelled  to  practice  occasionally  the  same  artifices  as 
others,  if  he  would  not  with  all  his  talents  and  industry  be  al- 
ways left  behind. 

Into  this  microcosm  of  contending  forces  the  boy  of  thirteen, 
nurtured  amidst  lonely  hills  and  silent  forests,  now  found  himself 
thrown.  The  monastic  gloom  of  the  buildings  contrasted,  at 
first,  most  painfully  with  the  joyous  freedom  of  fields  and  woods, 
where  he  had  been  accustomed  to  wander  at  will ; but  still  more 
painfully,  the  solitude  of  the  moral  desert.  Shy  and  shrinking 
within  himself  he  stood,  and  the  tears  which  furnished  only  sub- 
jects of  mockery  to  his  companions,  were  forced  back,  or  taught 
to  flow  only  in  secret.  Here,  however,  he  learned  the  useful  les- 
son of  self-reliance,  so  well,  though  so  bitterly  taught  by  want  of 
sympathy  in  those  around  us,  and  from  this  time  to  the  close  of 
his  life  it  was  never  forgotten.  It  was  natural  that  the  idea  of 
escape  should  occur  to  a boy  thus  circumstanced,  but  the  dread 
of  being  retaken  and  brought  back  in  disgrace  to  Schulpforte, 
occasioned  hesitation.  While  brooding  over  this  project,  it  hap- 
pened that  he  met  with  a copy  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  his  en- 
thusiasm, the  enthusiasm  of  thirteen,  was  kindled  into  a blaze. 
The  desert  should  be  his  dwelling-place ! On  some  far-off  island 
of  the  ocean,  beyond  the  reach  of  men  and  the  students  of 
Schulpforte,  he  would  pass  golden  days  of  freedom  and  happi- 
ness. It  was  a common  boyish  notion,  but  the  manner  in  which 


6S0 


FICHTE. 


it  was  carried  into  execution,  shows  traces  of  the  character  of  the 
individual.  Nothing  could  have  been  easier  than  for  him  to 
have  taken  his  departure  unperceived  on  one  of  the  days  when 
the  scholars  were  allowed  to  go  to  the  playground ; but  he 
scorned  to  steal  away  in  secret;  he  would  have  this  step  appear 
as  the  result  of  necessity  and  deliberate  determination.  He 
therefore  made  a formal  declaration  to  his  superior,  a lad  who< 
had  made  a cruel  and  oppressive  use  of  the  brief  authority  in- 
trusted him,  that  he  would  no  longer  endure  the  treatment  he 
received,  but  would  leave  the  place  at  the  first  opportunity.  As 
may  be  supposed,  the  announcement  was  received  with  sneers 
and  laughter,  and  Fichte  now  considered  himself  in  all  honor 
free  to  fulfil  his  resolution.  It  was  easy  to  find  an  opportunity, 
and  accordingly,  having  taken  the  precaution  to  study  his  pro- 
posed route  on  the  map,  he  set  off,  and  trudged  on  stoutly  on 
the  road  to  Naumberg.  As  he  walked,  however,  he  bethought 
himself  of  a saying  of  his  beloved  old  pastor,  that  one  should 
never  begin  an  important  undertaking  without  a prayer  for  Di- 
vine assistance ; he  turned,  therefore,  and  kneeling  down  on  a 
green  hillock  by  the  roadside,  implored,  in  the  innocent  sincerity 
of  his  heart,  the  blessing  of  Heaven  on  his  wanderings.  As  he 
prayed,  it  occurred  to  the  new  Robinson  that  his  disappearance 
must  occasion  grief  to  his  parents,  and  his  joy  in  his  wild  scheme 
was  gone  in  a moment.  “Never,  perhaps,  to  see  his  parents 
again !”  This  terrible  thought  suddenly  presented  itself  with 
such  force  that  he  resolved  to  retrace  his  'steps,  and  meet  all  the 
punishments  that  might  be  in  store  for  him,  “that  he  might 
look  once  more  on  the  face  of  his  mother.” 

On  his  return,  he  met  those  who  had  been  sent  in  pursuit  of 
him ; for  as  soon  as  he  had  been  missed,  the  “ Obergesell”  had 
given  information  of  what  had  passed  between  them.  When 
carried  before  the  Rector,  Fichte  immediately  confessed  that  he 
had  intended  to  escape,  and  at  the  same  time  related  the  whole 
story  with  such  straightforward  simplicity  and  openness,  that  the 
Rector  became  interested  for  him,  and  not  only  remitted  bis 


LIFE  OF  FICHTE. 


681 


punishment,  but  chose  for  him,  among  the  elder  lads,  anothei 
master,  who  treated  him  with  the  greatest  kindness,  and  to  whom 
he  became  warmly  attached. 

Fichte  had  become  a Candidatus  Theologise  when  his  patron 
died,  and  with  him  died  all  hopes  of  being  a clergyman.  His 
prospects  were  gloomy  in  the  extreme ; but  he  was  relieved  from 
anxiety  by  being  offered  the  situation  of  private  tutor  in  a family 
in  Switzerland.  He  soon  after  made  acquaintance  with  Lavater 
and  some  other  literary  men.  He  also  formed  an  attachment, 
which  was  to  last  him  through  life,  with  a niece  of  Klopstock. 

Fichte’s  tutorship  was  remarkable.  The  parents  of  his  pupils, 
although  neither  perfectly  comprehending  his  plans,  nor  approv- 
ing of  that  part  which  they  did  comprehend,  were  nevertheless 
such  admirers  of  his  moral  character — they  stood  in  such  re- 
spectful awe  of  him — that  they  were  induced  to  submit  their  own 
conduct  with  respect  to  their  children  to  his  judgment.  We 
presume  that  all  well-meaning  tutors  occasionally  make  sugges- 
tions to  parents  respecting  certain  points  in  their  conduct  tow- 
ards the  children ; but  Fichte’s  plan  is,  we  fancy,  quite  unexam- 
pled in  the  history  of  such  relations.  He  kept  a journal  which 
he  laid  before  them  every  week,  and  in  which  he  had  noted  the 
faults  of  conduct  of  which  they  had  been  guilty.  This  lets  us 
into  the  secret  of  Fichte’s  firm  and  truthful  character,  as  much 
as  any  thing  we  know  about  him.  It  was  from  such  a soil  that 
we  might  expect  to  find  growing  the  moral  doctrines  which  af- 
terwards made  his  name  illustrious.  But  this  domestic  censor- 
ship could  not  last  long;  it  lasted  for  two  years;  and  that  it 
should  have  lasted  so  long  is,  as  has  been  remarked,  strong  ev- 
idence of  the  respect  in  which  his  character  was  held.  But  it 
was  irksome,  insupportable,  and  ended  at  length  in  mutual  dis- 
satisfaction. He  was  forced  to  seek  some  other  mode  of  subsist- 
ence. He  went  to  Leipzig,  where  he  gave  private  le.ssons  in 
Greek  and  Philosophy,  and  became  acquainted  with  the  writings 
of  Kant.  This  was  an  important  event  to  him.  Hear  in  what 
verms  he  speaks  of  it : 


682 


FICHTE. 


“ I have  been  living,  for  the  last  four  or  five  months,  in  Leip- 
zig, the  happiest  life  I can  remember.  I came  here  with  my 
head  full  of  grand  projects,  which  all  burst  one  after  another, 
like  so  many  soap-bubbles,  without  leaving  me  so  much  as  the 
froth.  At  first  this  troubled  me  a little,  and,  half  in  despair,  I 
took  a step  which  I ought  to  have  taken  long  before.  Since  I 
could  not  alter  what  was  without  me,  I resolved  to  try  to  alter 
what  was  within.  I threw  myself  into  Philosophy — the  Kantian, 
videlicet — and  here  I found  the  true  antidote  for  all  my  evils, 
and  joy  enough  into  the  bargain.  The  influence  which  this  phi- 
losophy, particularly  the  ethical  part  of  it  (which,  however,  is 
unintelligible  without  a previous  study  of  the  Krilik  der  reinen 
Vernunft)  has  had  upon  my  whole  system  of  thought,  the  revo- 
lution which  it  has  effected  in  my  mind,  is  not  to  be  described. 
To  you  especially  I owe  the  declaration,  that  I now  believe,  with 
my  whole  heart,  in  free  will,  and  that  I see  that  under  this  sup- 
position alone  can  duty,  virtue,  and  morality  have  any  existence. 
From  the  opposite  proposition,  of  the  necessity  of  all  human 
actions,  must  flow  the  most  injurious  consequences  to  society ; 
and  it  may,  in  fact,  be  in  part  the  source  of  the  corrupt  morals 
of  the  higher  classes  which  we  hear  so  much  of.  Should  any 
one  adopting  it  remain  virtuous,  we  must  look  for  the  cause  of 
his  purity  elsewhere  than  in  the  innocuousness  of  the  doctrine. 
With  many  it  is  their  want  of  logical  consequence  in  their  actions. 

“I  am  furthermore  Avell  convinced,  that  this  life  is  not  the  land 
of  enjoyment,  but  of  labor  and  toil,  and  that  every  joy  is  granted 
to  us  bu.  to  strengthen  us  for  further  exertion ; that  the  manage- 
ment of  our  own  fate  is  by  no  means  required  of  us,  but  only  self- 
culture. I trouble  myself,  therefore,  not  at  all  concerning  the 
things  that  are  without;  I endeavor  not  to  appear,  but  to  be. 
And  to  this,  perhaps,  I owe  the  deep  tranquillity  I enjoy ; my 
external  position,  however,  is  well  enough  suited  to  such  a frame 
of  mind.  I am  no  man’s  master,  and  no  man’s  slave.  As  to 
prospects,  I have  none  at  all,  for  the  constitution  of  the  church 
here  does  not  suit  me,  nqr,  to  say  the  truth,  that  of  the  people 


LIFE  OF  FICHTE. 


683 


either.  As  long  as  I can  maintain  my  present  independence  I 
shall  certainly  do  so.  I have  been  for  some  time  working  at  an 
explanatory  abridgment  of  Kant’s  Kritik  der  Urtheilskraft  (Crit- 
ical Inquiry  into  the  Faculty  of  Judgment),  but  I am  afraid  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  come  before  the  public  in  a very  immature 
state,  to  prevent  being  forestalled  by  a hundred  vamped-up  pub- 
lications. Should  the  child  ever  make  its  appearance,  I will  send 
it  to  you.”* 

It  was  in  consequence  of  his  admiration  of  Kant,  that,  after 
several  ineffectual  attempts  to  settle  himself  he  went  to  Konings- 
berg.  Instead  of  a letter  of  introduction,  Fichte  presented  Kant 
with  a work,  written  in  eight  days,  and  which  bore  the  title  of 
A Critique  of  every  possible  Revelation.  Kant  at  once  recognized 
his  peer,  and  received  him  warmly.  But  Kant  himself,  though 
celebrated,  was  neither  rich  nor  influential.  Fich'te’s  affairs  were 
desperate.  We  have  his  own  confession  in  the  fragment  of  a 
journal  which  he  kept  at  the  time. 

. “ 28<A  August. — I yesterday  began  to  revise  my  Critique.  In 
the  course  of  my  meditation  some  new  and  excellent  ideas  were 
excogitated,  which  convinced  me  that  my  work  was  superficial. 
I endeavored  to  carry  out  my  investigation  to-day ; but  my  im- 
agination led  me  so  far  away,  that  I could  do  nothing.  I have 
’■eckoned  my  finances,  and  find  that  I have  just  enough  to  sub- 
sist on  for  a fortnight.  It  is  true  this  is  not  the  first  time  in  my 
life  that  I have  found  myself  in  such  an  embarrassment,  but  I 
was  then  in  my  own  country ; besides,  in  growing  older,  one’s 
sense  of  honor  becomes  more  delicate,  and  distress  is  more  and 
more  of  a hardship.  ...  I have  not  been  able  to  make  any  res- 
olution. I certainly  shall  not  speak  on  the  subject  to  M.  Bor- 
owsky,  to  whom  Kant  has  given  me  an  introduction.  If  I speak 
to  any  one,  it  shall  be  to  Kant  himself. 

“ ls<  Sept. — I have  made  a resolution  which  I must  commu- 


*■  It  was  never  printed ; probably  because,  as  he  here  anticipates,  he  was 
forestalled. 


584 


FICHTE. 


nicate  to  Kaut.  A situation  as  tutor,  however  reluctantly  I 
might  accept  it,  does  not  even  offer  itself ; while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  incertitude  in  which  I am  placed  does  not  allow  me  to 
work.  I must  return  home.  I can  perhaps  borrow  from  Kant 
the  small  sum  necessary  for  my  journey.  I went  to  him  to-day 
for  that  purpose,  but  my  courage  failed  me ; I resolved  to  write 
to  him. 

“ 2d  Sept. — I finished  my  letter  to  Kant,  and  sent  it. 

“ Zd  Sept. — Received  an  invitation  to  dinner  from  Kant.  He 
received  me  with  his  usual  coi'diality  ; but  informed  me  that  it 
would  be  quite  out  of  his  power  to  accede  to  my  request  for  an- 
other fortnight.  Such  amiable  frankness  ! 

“ I have  done  nothing  lately  ; but  I shall  set  myself  to  work, 
and  leave  the  rest  to  Providence. 

“ Qth  Sept. — Dined  with  Kant,  who  proposed  that  I should 
sell  the  MS.  of  my  Critique  to  Hartung  the  bookseller.  ‘ It  is 
admirably  written,’  said  he,  when  I told  him  I was  going  to  re 
write  it.  Is  that  true  ? It  is  Kant  who  says  so. 

“ \ 2th  Sept. — I wanted  to  work  to-day  ; but  could  do  noth- 
ing. How  will  this  end  ? What  will  become  of  me  a week 
hence  ? Then  all  my  money  will  be  gone.” 

These  extracts  will  not  be  read  without  emotion.  They  paint 
a curious  picture  in  the  life  of  our  philosopher  : a life  which  was 
little  more  than  a perpetual  and  energetic  combat. 

The  Critique  was  published  anonymously,  and  gained  immense 
applause ; partly,  no  doubt,  because  it  was  generally  mistaken 
for  the  production  of  Kant  himself.  The  celebrity  he  acquired 
when  the  authorship  was  disclosed,  was  the  means  of  procuring 
him  the  chair  of  Philosophy  at  Jena,  the  offer  of  which  was  made 
him  towards  the  end  of  1793. 

Jena  was  then  the  leading  University  of  Germany ; and 
Fichte  might  flatter  himself  that  at  length  he  had  a settled  posi- 
tion, in  which  he  might  calmly  develop  his  scientific  views, 
But  his  was  a Fighter’s  destiny.  Even  here,  at  Jena,  he  found 
himself  soon  opposing  and  opposed.  His  endeavors  to  instil  a 


LIFE  OF  FICHTE. 


685 


higher  moral  feeling  into  the  students — his  anxiety  for  their  bet- 
ter culture — only  brought  on  him  the  accusation  of  endeavoring 
to  undermine  the  religious  institutions  of  his  country ; and  his 
speculative  views  brought  on  him  the  charge  of  atheism. 

Atheism  is  a grave  charge,  and  yet  how  lightly  made ! The 
history  of  opinion  abounds  in  instances  of  this  levity ; yet  scarce- 
ly ever  was  a charge  more  groundless  in  appearance  than  that 
against  Fichte,  whose  system  was  atheistic  only  in  superficial  ap- 
pearance. Nevertheless  the  cry  was  raised,  and  he  had  to  battle 
against  it.  It  is  understood  that  the  Government  would  have 
been  willing  to  overlook  the  publication  of  the  work  which 
raised  this  cry,  .if  Fichte  had  made  any  sort  of  explanatory  modi- 
fication ; but  he  would  not  hear  of  it,  tendered  his  resignation, 
and  soon  afterwards  found  an  asylum  in  Prussia,  where  he  occu- 
pied the  Chair  at  Erlangen,  and  afterwards  at  Berlin.  From 
his  career  at  Berlin  we  will  select  one  incident  typical  of  his 
character. 

The  students  are  assembled  in  crowds  to  hear  their  favorite 
professor,  who  is  to  lecture  that  day  upon  duty, — on  that  duty 
whose  ideal  grandeur  his  impassioned  eloquence  has  revealed  to 
them.  Fichte  arrives,  calm  and  modest.  He  lectures  with  his 
usual  dignified  calmness,  rising  into  fiery  bursts  of  eloquence,  but 
gc  verned  by  the  same  marvellous  rigor  of  logic  as  before.  He 
leads  them  to  the  present  state  of  affairs.  On  this  topic  he  grows 
still  more  animated  ; the  rolling  of  drums  without  frequently 
drowning  his  voice,  and  giving  him  fresh  spirit.  He  points  to 
the  bleeding  wounds  of  his  country ; he  warms  with  hatred 
against  oppressors ; and  enforces  it  as  the  duty  of  eveiy  one  to 
lend  his  single  arm  to  save  his  country. 

“ This  course  of  lectures,”  he  exclaims,  “ will  be  suspended  till 
the  end  of  the  campaign.  "We  will  resume  them  in  a free  coun- 
try, or  die  in  the  attempt  to  recover  her  freedom.”  Loud  shouts 
respondent  ring  through  the  hall ; clapping  of  hands  and  stamp- 
ing of  feet  make  answer  to  the  rolling  drums  without ; every 
German  heart  there  present  is  moved,  as  at  the  sound  of  a 
46 


6S6 


FICHTE. 


trumjDet.  Ficlite  descends ; passes  through  the  fi'owd ; and 
places  himself  in  the  ranks  of  a corps  of  volunteers  then  depart- 
ing for  the  army.  It  is  the  commencement  of  the  memorable 
compaign  of  1813. 

In  another  year  he  was  no  more ; he  fell,  not  by  a French 
bnllet,  but  by  the  fever  caught  while  tending  his  loved  wife,  who 
herself  had  fallen  a victim  to  her  attendance  on  unknown  suffer- 
ers. On  the  28th  of  January,  1814,  aged  fifty-two,  this  noble 
Fichte  expired. 

There  are  few  characters  which  inspire  more  admiration  than 
that  of  Fichte  ; we  must  all  admire  “ that  cold,  colossal,  ada- 
mantine spirit  standing  erect  and  clear,  like  a Cato  Major  among 
degenerate  men ; fit  to  have  been  the  teacher  of  the  Stoa,  and 
to  have  discoursed  of  beauty  and  virtue  in  the  groves  of  Aca- 
deme ! So  robust  an  intellect,  a soul  so  calm,  so  lofty,  massive, 
and  immovable  has  not  mingled  in  philosophical  discussion  since 
the  time  of  Luther.  For  the  man  rises  before  us  amid  contra- 
diction and  debate  like  a granite  mountain  amid  clouds  and 
winds.  Ridicule  of  the  best  that  could  be  commanded  has  been 
already  tried  against  him ; but  it  could  not  avail.  What  was 
the  wit  of  a thousand  wits  to  him  ? The  cry  of  a thousand  choughs 
assaulting  that  old  cliff  of  granite  ; seen  from  the  summit,  these, 
as  they  winged  the  midway  air,  showed  scarce  so  gross  as  bee- 
tles, and  their  cry  was  seldom  even  audible.  Fichte’s  opinions 
may  be  true  or  false  ; but  his  character  as  a thinker  can  be 
slightl}^  valued  only  by  those  who  know  it  ill  ; and  as  a man  ap- 
proved by  action  and  suffering,  in  his  life  and  in  his  death,  he 
ranks  with  a class  of  men  who  were  common  only  in  better  ages 
than  ours.”'^' 

§ II.  Fichte’s  Historical  Position. 

Kant’s  Criticism,  although  really  leaving  skepticism  in  posses- 
sion of  the  field,  was  nevertheless  believed  to  have  indicated  a 


* Carlyle. 


I 


kichte’s  histoeicae  position. 


687 


new  domain,  in  which  a refuge  might  be  found.  The  thought 
soon  suggested  itself  that  on  this  domain  an  indestructible  tem- 
ple might  be  erected.  Kant  had  driven  the  piles  deep  down  into 
the  earth — a secure  foundation  was  made ; but  Kant  had  de- 
clined building. 

Jacobi,  for  one,  saw  in  the  principles  of  “ criticism”  a path  on 
which  he  could  travel.  He  maintained,  that  just  as  Sense  was, 
according  to  Kant,  a faculty  whereby  we  perceived  material 
things,  so  also  was  Reason  a sense,  a faculty,  whereby  we  per- 
ceive the  supei'sensual. 

It  was  indeed  soon  evident  that  men  would  not  content  them- 
selves with  the  mere  negation  to  which  Kant  had  reduced  our 
knowledge  of  things  per  se.  It  was  the  positive  part  of  his  sys- 
tem they  accepted  and  endeavored  to  extend.  This  attempt 
forms  the  matter  of  all  the  subsequent  history  of  German  Philos- 
ophy till  Hegel.  We  rvill  briefly  state  the  nature  of  the  dis- 
cussions which  the  result  of  Kant’s  system  had  rendered  im- 
perative. 

Kant  had  postulated  the  existence  of  an  object  as  the  neces- 
sary correlate  to  a subject.  Knowledge  was  both  objective  and 
subjective  ; but  inasmuch  as  it  was  thus  inseparably  twofold  it 
could  never  penetrate  the  essence  of  things — it  could  never  know 
the  object — it  could  only  know  phenomena.  Hence  the  pro- 
blem was ; 

What  is  the  relation  of  object  and  subject  ? 

To  solve  this,  it  was  necessary  to  penetrate  the  essence  of 
things,  to  apprehend  noumena.  All  the  efibrts  of  men  were 
therefore  to  be  directed  towards  this  absolute  science.  The 
ground  of  all  certitude  being  in  the  a priori  ideas,  an  attempt 
was  made  to  construct  a priori  the  whole  system  of  human 
Knowledge. 

The  Ego  was  the  necessary  basis  of  the  new  edifice.  Conscious- 
ness, as  alone  certain,  was  proclaimed  the  ground  upon  which  ab- 
solute science  must  rest. 

Fichte’s  position  is  here  clearly  marked  out.  His  sole  object 


688 


FICHTE. 


was  to  construct  a science  out  of  consciousness,  and  thereon  to 
found  a system  of  morals. 

Let  us  at  the  outset  request  the  reader  to  give  no  heed  to  any 
cf  the  witticisms  which  he  may  hear,  or  which  may  suggest 
themselves  to  him  on  a hasty  consideration  of  Fichte’s  opinions. 
That  the  opinions  are  not  those  of  ordinary  thinkers,  we  admit ; 
that  they  are  repugnant  to  all  “ common  sense,”  we  must  also 
admit ; that  they  are  false,  we  believe  : but  we  also  believe 
them  to  have  been  laborious  products  of  an  earnest  mind,  the 
consequences  of  admitted  premises,  drawn  with  singular  audacity 
and  subtlety,  and  no  mere  caprices  of  ingenious  speculation — no 
paradoxes  of  an  acute  but  trifling  mind. 

It  was  within  him  that  he  found  a lamp  to  light  him  on  his 
path.  Deep  in  the  recesses  of  his  soul,  beneath  all  understand- 
ing, superior  to  all  logical  knowledge,  there  lay  a faculty  by 
which  truth,  absolute  truth,  might  be  known. 

“I  have  found  the  organ,”  he  says  in  his  Bestimmung  des 
Menschen,  “by  which  to  apprehend  all  reality.  It  is  not  the 
understanding ; for  all  knowledge  supposes  some  higher  knowl- 
edge on  which  it  rests,  and  of  this  ascent  there  is  no  end.  It  is 
Faith,  voluntarily  reposing  on  views  naturally  presenting  them- 
selves to  us,  because  through  these  views  alone  we  can  fulfil  our 
destiny,  which  sees  our  knowledge,  and  pronounces  that  ‘ it  is 
good,’  and  raises  it  to  certainty  and  conviction.  It  is  no  knowl- 
edge, but  a resolution  of  the  will  to  admit  this  knowledge 
This  is  no  mere  verbal  distinction,  but  a true  and  deep  one, 
pregnant  with  the  most  important  consequences.  Let  me  for- 
ever hold  fast  by  it.  All  my  conviction  is  but  faith,  and  it  pro- 
ceeds from  the  will  and  not  from  the  understanding ; from  the 
will  also,  and  not  from  the  understanding,  must  all  the  true  cul- 
ture proceed.  Let  the  first  only  be  firmly  directed  towards  the 
Good,  the  latter  will  of  itself  apprehend  the  True.  Should  the 
latter  be  exercised  and  developed  while  the  former  remains 
neglected,  nothing  can  come  of  it  but  a facility  in  vain  and  end- 
less sophistical  subtleties  refining  awav  into  the  absolutely  void 


Fichte’s  histoeicae  position. 


689 


iuane.  I kiu.w  that  every  seeming  truth,  born  of  thought  alone, 
and  not  ultimately  resting  on  faith,  is  false  and  spurious ; for 
knowledge,  purely  and  simply  such,  when  carried  to  its  utmost 
consequences,  leads  to  the  conviction  that  we  can  know  nothing  ! 
Such  knowledge  never  finds  any  thing  in  the  conclusions,  which 
it  has  not  previously  placed  in  the  premises  by  faith  ; and  even 

then  its  conclusions  are  not  always  correct Every  human 

creature  born  into  the  world  has  unconsciously  seized  on  the 
reality  which  exists  for  him  alone  through  this  intuitive  faith. 
If  in  mere  knowledge — in  mere  perception  and  reflection — we 
can  discover  no  ground  for  regarding  our  mental  presentations 
as  more  than  mere  pictures,  why  do  we  all  nevertheless  regard 
them  as  more,  and  imagine  for  them  a basis,  a substratum  inde- 
pendent of  all  modifications  ? If  we  all  possess  the  capacity  and 
the  instinct  to  go  beyond  this  natural  view  of  things,  why  do  so 
few  of  us  follow  this  instinct,  or  exercise  this  capacity? — nay, 
why  do  we  even  resist  with  a sort  of  bitterness  when  we  are 
urged  towards  this  path  ? What  holds  us  imprisoned  in  these 
natural  boundaries?  Not  inferences  of  our  reason;  for  there 
are  none  which  could  do  this.  It  is  our  deep  interest  in  reality 
that  does  this — in  the  good  that  we  are  to  produce — in  the  com- 
mon and  the  sensuous  that  we  are  to  enjoy.  From  this  interest 
can  no  one  who  lives  detach  himself,  and  just  as  little  from  the 
faith  which  forces  itself  upon  him  simultaneously  with  his  exist- 
ence. We  are  all  born  in  faith,  and  he  who  is  blind  follows 
blindly  the  irresistible  attraction.  He  who  sees  follows  by  sight, 
and  believes  because  he  will  believe.”* 

Here  the  limit  set  by  Kant  is  overleaped : a knowledge  of 
realities  is  affirmed.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  affirm  such  a 
knowledge ; we  must  prove  it.  To  prove  this  is  the  mission  of 
Philosophy. 

Fichte,  who  thought  himself  a true  Kantist,  although  Kant 
very  distinctly  and  publicly  repudiated  him,  declared  that  the 

* We  adopt  the  translation  of  Mrs.  Percy  Sinnett : Destmation,  of  Man 
London,  184:6. 


690 


FICHTE. 


materials  for  a science  had  been  discovered  by  Kant;  nothing 
more  was  needed  than  a systematic  co-ordination  of  these  mate- 
rials : and  this  task  he  undertook  in  his  famous  Doctrine  of 
Science  (^Wissenschaftslelire).  In  this  he  endeavored  to  con 
struct  a ’priori  all  knowledge. 

§ HI.  Basis  of  Fichte’s  System. 

We  are  supposed  to  perceive  external  objects  through  the 
ideas  which  these  objects  excite  in  us.  But  this  assumption  is 
not  warranted  by  the  facts  of  consciousness.  What  is  the  fun- 
damental fact?  It  is  that  I have  in  my  mind  a certain  idea. 
This,  and  this  only,  is  primitively  given.  When  we  leave  this 
feet  in  quest  of  an  explanation,  we  are  forced  to  admit  either 
that  this  idea  is  spontaneously  evolved  hy  me  ; or  else  some  not- 
me — something  different  from  myself — has  excited  it  m me. 
Idealism  or  Dualism  ? choose  between  them. 

Kant,  unwilling  to  embrace  idealism,  and  unable  to  conceive 
how  the  Ego  spontaneously  evolved  within  itself  ideas  of  that 
which  it  regarded  as  different  from  itself,  postulated  the  exist- 
ence of  a Non-Ego,  but  declared  that  we  knew  nothing  of  it. 
In  this  he  followed  Locke,  and  the  majority  of  philosophers. 

Truly,  said  Fichte,  we  know  nothing  of  it ; we  can  only  know 
that  which  passes  within  ourselv'es.  Only  so  much  as  we  are 
conscious  of  can  we  know ; but  in  consciousness  there  is  no  ob- 
ject given,  there  is  only  an  idea  given.  Are  we  forced  by  the 
very  laws^of  our  reason  to  suppose  that  there  is  Non-Ego  exist- 
ino-  ? — are  we  forced  to  assume  that  these  ideas  are  images  of 
something  out  of  us  and  independent  of  us  ? To  what  does  this 
dilemma  bring  us  ? Simply  to  this  ; that  the  very  assumption, 
here  called  a necessary  consequence  of  our  mental  constitution — 
this  Non-Ego,  which  must  be  postulated,  is,  after  all,  nothing  but 
a postulate  of  our  reason ; is  therefore  a product  of  the  Eyo.  It 
is  the  Ego  which  thus  creates  the  necessity  for  a Non-Ego ; it  is 
the  Ego  which  thus,  answering  to  the  necessity,,  creates  the  Non- 
Ego  wanted.  Ideas,  and  nothing  but  ideas,  are  given  in  the 


BASIS  OF  FICHTE  S SYSTEM. 


60l 


primitive  fact  of  consciousness.  These  are  the  products  of  the 
activity  of  the  Ego ; and  not,  as  is  so  commonly  asserted,  the 
products  of  the  passivity  of  the  Ego.  The  soul  is  no  passive 
mirror  reflecting  images.  It  is  an  active  principle  creating  them. 
The  soul  is  no  lifeless  receptivity.  Were  it  not  brimming  over 
with  life  and  activity,  perception  would  be  impossible.  One 
stone  does  not  perceive  another.  A mould  does  not  perceive  the 
liquid  that  is  poured  into  it. 

Consciousness  is  in  its  very  essence  an  activity.  Well,  then, 
if  'n  its  activity  it  produces  images,  and  if  by  the  laws  of  its 
nature  it  is  forced  to  assume  that  these  images  hav'e  some  sub- 
stratum, what  is  this  assumption  but  another  form  of  the  soul’s 
activity  ? If  the  Ego  is  conscious  of  its  changes,  and  yet  is 
forced  to  attribute  these  changes  to  some  external  cause,  what  is 
this  very  act  of  assuming  an  external  cause  but  the  pure  act  of 
the  Ego  ? — another  change  in  the  consciousness  ? 

You  admit  that  we  cannot  know  Substance  ; all  our  knowl- 
edge is  limited  to  accidents — to  phenomena.  But,  you  say,  you 
are  forced  to  assume  a Substance  as  the  basis  of  these  accidents 
— a noumeuon  as  that  whereby  phenomena  are  possible ; and 
yet  you  cannot  know  this  noumenon.  Fichte  answers ; If  you 
cannot  know  it,  your  assumption,  as  the  mere  product  of  your 
reason,  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  another  form  of  the  activity 
of  the  Ego.  It  is  you  who  assume ; and  you  assume  what  you 
call  Substance.  Substance  is  nothing  but  the  synthesis  of  acci- 
dents. And  it  is  a mental  synthesis. 

Thus  Fichte  founded  Idealism  upon  the  basis  of  consciousness, 
which  was  the  admitted  basis  of  all  certitude ; and  he  not  only 
founded  idealism,  but  reduced  the  Ego  to  an  activity,  and  all 
knowledge  to  an  act. 

The  activity  of  the  Ego  is  of  course  an  assumption,  but  it  is 
the  only  assumption  necessary  for  the  construction  of  a science. 
That  once  admitted,  the  existence  of  the  Non-Ego,  as  a product 
of  the  Ego,  follows  as  a necessary  consequence. 

Every  one  will  admit  that  A = A ; or  that  A is  A.  This  is 


692 


FICHTE. 


an  axiom  which  is  known  intuitively,  and  has  no  need  of  proof. 
It  is  the  proposition  of  absolute  identity  [Satz  der  Identitat).  It 
is  absolutely  true.  In  admitting  this  to  be  absolutely  true,  we 
ascribe  to  the  mind  a faculty  of  knowing  absolute  truth. 

But  in  saying  A equals  A,  we  do  not  affirm  the  existence  of  A ; 
we  only  affirm  that  if  A exist,  then  it  must  equal  A.  And  the 
axiom  teaches  us  not  that  A exists ; but  there  is  a necessary  re- 
lation between  a certain  ^anc.  then  ; and  this  necessary  relation 
we  will  call  X.  But  this  relation,  this  X,  is  only  in  the  Ego, 
comes  only  f7-om  the  Ego.  It  is  the  Ego  that  judges  in  the  pre- 
ceding axiom  that  A = A ; and  it  judges  by  means  of  X. 

To  reduce  this  to  language  a little  less  scholastic,  we  may  say 
that,  in  every  judgment  which  the  mind  makes,  the  act  of  judg- 
ing is  an  act  of  the  Ego. 

But  as  the  X is  wholly  in  the  Ego,  so  therefore  is  A in  the 
Ego,  and  is  posited  hy  the  Ego.  And  by  this  we  see  that  there 
is  something  in  the  Ego  which  is  forever  one  and  the  same,  and 
that  is  the  X.  Hence  the  formula,  “ I am  I : Ego  = Ego.” 

We  come  here  to  the  Cogito,  ergo  sum,  of  Descartes,  as  the 
basis  of  all  certitude.  The  Ego  posits  itself,  and  is  by  means  of 
this  very  self-positing.  When  I say  “ I am,”  I affirm,  in  con- 
sciousness, my  existence ; and  this  affirmation  of  my  conscious- 
ness is  the  condition  of  my  existence.  The  Ego  is  therefore  at 
one  and  the  same  time  both  the  activity  and  the  product  of  ac- 
tivity; precisely  as  thought  is  both  the  thinking  activity,  and 
the  product  thought. 

We  will,  for  the  present,  spare  the  reader  any  further  inflic- 
tion of  such  logical  abstractions.  He  will  catch  in  the  foregoing 
a glimpse  of  Fichte’s  method,  and  be  in  some  way  able  to  esti- 
mate the  strength  of  the  basis  on  which  idealism  reposes. 

The  great  point  Fichte  has  endeavored  to  establish  is  the 
identity  of  being  and  thought — of  existence  and  consciousness — 
of  object  and  subject.  And  he  establishes  this  by  means  of  the 
Ego  considered  as  essentially  an  activity. 

Hence  the  conclusion  drawn  in  the  practical  part  of  his  phi 


BASIS  OF  FICUTE’s  SYSTEM. 


693 


losophy,  that  the  true  destination  of  man  is  not  thought,  hut 
action,  which  is  thought  realized.  “ I am  free,”  he  says.  That 
is  the  revelation  of  consciousness.  “ I am  free ; and  it  is  not 
merely  my  action,  but  the  free  determination  of  my  will  to  obey 
the  voice  of  conscience,  that  decides  all  my  worth.  More  bright- 
ly does  the  everlasting  world  now  rise  before  me ; and  the  fun- 
damental law's  of  its  order  are  more  clearly  revealed  to  my  men- 
tal sight.  My  will  alone,  lying  hid  in  the  obscure  depths  of  my 
soul,  is  the  first  link  in  a chain  of  consequences  stretching 
through  the  invisible  realms  of  spirit,  as  in  this  terrestrial  world 
the  action  itself,  a certain  movement  communicated  to  matter,  is 
the  first  link  in  a material  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  encircling 
the  whole  system.  The  will  is  the  efficient  cause,  the  living 
principle  of  the  world  of  spirit,  as  motion  is  of  the  world  of 
sense.  I stand  between  two  worlds,  the  one  visible,  in  which  the 
act  alone  avails,  and  the  intention  matters  not  at  all ; the  other 
invisible  and  incomprehensible,  acted  on  only  by  the  will.  In 
both  these  worlds  I am  an  effective  force.  The  Divine  life,  as 
alone  the  finite  mind  can  conceive  it,  is  self-forming,  self-repre- 
senting will,  clothed,  to  the  mortal  eye,  with  multitudinous  sen- 
suous forms,  flowing  through  me  and  through  the  whole  im- 
measurable universe,  here  streaming  through  my  veins  and 
muscles, — there,  pouring  its  abundance  into  the  tree,  the  flower, 
the  grass.  The  dead,  heavy  mass  of  inert  matter,  which  did  but 
fill  up  nature,  has  disappeared,  and,  in  its  stead,  there  rushes  by 
the  bright,  everlasting  flood  of  life  and  pow'er,  from  its  Infinite 
Source. 

“The  Eternal  Will  is  the  Creator  of  the  world,  as  he  is  the 
Creator  of  the  finite  reason.  Those  who  will  insist  that  the 
world  must  have  been  created  out  of  a mass  of  inert  matter, 
which  must  always  remain  inert  and  lifeless,  like  a vessel  made 
by  human  hands,  know  neither  the  world  nor  Him.  The  In- 
finite Season  alone  exists  in  himself — the  finite  in  him  ; in  our 
minds  alone  has  he  created  a world,  or  at  least  that  by  and 
through  which  it  becomes  unfolded  to  us.  In  his  light  we  be» 


694 


FICHTE. 


hold  the  light,  and  all  that  it  reveals.  Great,  living  Will ! 
whom  no  words  can  name,  and  no  conception  embrace  ! well 
may  I lift  my  thoughts  to  thee,  for  I can  think  only  in  thee.  In 
thee,  the  Incomprehensible,  does  my  own  existence,  and  that  of 
the  world,  become  comprehensible  to  me ; all  the  problems  of 
being  are  solved,  and  the  most  perfect  harmony  reigns.  I veil 
my  face  before  thee  and  lay  my  finger  on  my  lips.” 

§ IV.  Fichte’s  Idealism. 

The  ground-principle  of  Fichte’s  idealism  having  been  given, 
we  have  now  to  see  how  he  avoids  the  natural  objections  which 
rise  against  such  a doctrine.  But  first  let  us  notice  how  this 
deification  of  personality  was  at  once  the  most  natural  product 
of  such  a mind  as  Fichte’s,  and  the  best  adapted  to  the  spirit  of 
the  age  which  produced  it.  His  doctrine  was  an  inspiration  of 
that  ardent  and  exalted  spirit  which  stirred  the  heart  of  Ger- 
many, and  made  the  campaign  of  1813  an  epoch  in  history. 
Germany  then,  as  now,  was  most  deficient  in  energetic  will.  It 
had  armies,  and  these  armies  were  headed  by  experienced  gener- 
als. But  among  them  there  was  scarcely  another  beyond  the 
impetuous  Bliicher,  who  had  steadfast  will.  They  were  beaten 
and  beaten.  At  length  they  were  roused.  A series  of  insults 
had  roused  them.  They  rose  to  fight  for  fatherland  ; and  in 
their  ranks  was  Fichte,  who  by  deed  as  well  as  doctrine  sought 
to  convince  them  that  in  Will  lay  man’s  divinity. 

The  question  being,  What  is  the  relation  of  Object  and  Sub- 
ject? and  Fichte’s  solution  being  Object  and  Subject  are  identi- 
cal^ it  followed  from  his  position  that  inasmuch  as  an  Object  and 
a Subject — a Non-Ego  and  an  Ego — were  given  in  knowledge, 
and  the  distinction  between  them  by  all  men  supposed  to  be 
real,  the  origin  of  this  distinction  must  arise  in  one  of  two  ways  : 
either  the  Ego  must  posit  the  Non-Ego,  wilfully  and  consciously 
(in  which  case  mankind  would  never  suppose  the  distinction  to 
be  a real  distinction)  ; or  else  the  Ego  must  cause  the  Non  Ego 
to  be,  and  must  do  so  necessarily  and  unconsciously. 


fiohte’s  idealism. 


695 


How  does  Fichte  solve  the  problem  ? He  assumes  that  the 
existeuce  of  the  very  Ego  itself  is  determined*  by  the  Non-Ego  ; 
and  in  this.way  : To  be,  and  to  be  conscions,  are  the  same.  The 
existence  of  the  Ego  depends  upon  its  consciousness.  But  to  be 
conscious  of  Self  is  at  the  same  time  to  be  conscious  of  Not-Self ; 
the  correlates  Self  and  Not-Self  are  given  in  the  same  act  of  con- 
sciousness. But  how  is  it  that  we  attribute  reality  to  Not-Self  ? 
Just  as  we  attribute  reality  to  Self,  namely,  by  an  act  of  Con- 
sciousness. Not-Self  is  given  in  Consciousness  as  a reality,  and 
therefore  we  cannot  suppose  it  to  be  a phantom. 

We  may  pause  here  to  remark  how  all  the  witticisms  against 
Idealism  fall  to  the  ground.  The  wits  assume  that  when  it  is 
said  the  World  is  produced  by  the  Ego,  this  World  must  be  held 
as  a phantom.  Now  nobody  ever  believed  that  external  objects 
had  no  reality ; the  only  possible  doubt  is  as  to  whether  they 
have  any  reality  independent  of  mind. 

In  consciousness  we  have  a twofold  fact,  namely,  the  fact  of 
Self,  and  the  fact  of  Not-Self,  indissolubly  given  in  one.  We 
conclude  therefore  that  Consciousness — that  the  Ego — is  partly 
self-determined,  and  partly  determined  by  not-self.  Let  us  sup- 
pose the  entire  reality  of  the  Ego  (that  is,  in  its  identity  of  Sub- 
ject and  Object)  represented  by  the  number  ten.  The  Ego, 
conscious  of  five  of  its  parts — or,  to  speak  with  Fichte— 
five,  does  by  that  very  act  posit  five  parts  negatively  in  itself. 
But  how  is  it  that  the  Ego  can  posit  a negation  in  itself?  It 
does  so  by  the  very  act  of  Consciousness ; in  the  act  of  sepa- 
rating five  from  ten,  the  five  remaining  are  left  passive.  The 
negation  is  therefore  the  passivity  of  the  Ego.  This  seems  to 
lead  to  the  contradiction  that  the  Ego,  which  was  defined  as  an 
Activity,  is  at  the  same  time  active  and  passive.  The  solution 

* The  German  word  lestimmen,  which  we  are  forced  to  translate  “ to  de- 
termine,” is  of  immense  use  to  the  metaphysicians  ; we  would  gladly  have 
Buhstituted  some  other  equivalent,  could  we  have  found  one  to  represent 
the  meaning  better.  To  determine,  in  philosophy,  does  not  mean  (as  in  or- 
dinary language),  to  resolve,  hut  to  render  definite.  Chaos,  when  dtter- 
mined,  is  the  created  world. 


696 


FICHTE. 


of  this  difficulty  is  that  it  is  Activity  which  determines  Passivity 
and  reciprocally.  Let  us  suppose  the  absolute  reality  as  a 
Sphere ; this  is  entirely  in  the  Ego,  and  has  a certain  quantity. 
Every  quantity  less  than  this  totality,  will,  of  necessity,  be  nega- 
tion, passivity.  In  order  that  a less  quantity  should  be  com- 
pared with  the  totality  and  so  opposed  to  it,  it  is  necessary  there 
should  be  some  relation  between  them  ; and  this  is  in  the  ideai 
of  divisibility.  In  the  absolute  totality,  as  such,  there  are  no 
parts  ; but  this  totality  may  be  compared  with  parts  and  distin- 
guished from  it.  Passivity  is  therefore  a determinate  quantity 
of  Activity,  a quantity  compared  with  the  totality.  In  regard  to 
the  Ego  as  absolute,  the  Ego  as  limited  is  passive  ; in  the  rela- 
tion of  Ego  as  limited  to  the  Non-Ego,  the  Ego  is  active  and  the 
Non-Ego  passive.  And  thus  are  activity  and  passivity  recipro- 
cally determined. 

The  result  of  this  and  much  more  reasoning,  is  the  hypothesis 
that  when  mankind  attribute  to  objects  a real  existence  they  are 
correct ; but  they  are  incorrect  in  supposing  that  the  Object  is 
independent  of  the  Subject : it  is  identical  with  the  Subject.  The 
common-sense  belief  is  therefore  correct  enough.  It  is  when  we 
would  rise  above  this  belief,  and  endeavor  to  philosophize,  that 
we  fall  into  error.  All  the  philosophers  have  erred,  not  in  as- 
suming the  reality  of  objects,  but  in  assuming  the  reality  of  two 
distinct,  disparate  existences,  Matter  and  Mind;  whereas  we  have 
seen  that  there  is  only  one  existence,  having  the  twofold  aspect 
of  Object  and  Subject. 

Nor  is  the  distinction  unimportant.  If  Dualism  be  accepted, 
we  have  no  refuge  from  Skepticism.  If  we  are  to  believe  that 
Dinge  an  sick  exist — that  Matter  exists  independently  of  Mind, 
exists  per  se — then  are  we  doomed  to  admit  only  a knowledge  of 
phenomona  as  possible.  The  things  in  themselves  we  can  never 
know  ; we  can  only  know  their  effects  upon  us.  Our  knowledge 
is  relative,  and  never  can  embrace  the  absolute  truth. 

But  if  Idealism  be  accepted,  the  ordinary  belief  of  men  is  not 
only  respected  but  confirmed  ; for  this  belief  is  that  we  do  know 


Fichte’s  iDEALisii. 


697 


things  in  themselves,  and  that  the  things  we  know  do  exist.  The 
Dualist  forces  you  to  admit  that  you  cannot  know  things  in 
themselves  ; and  that  your  belief  in  their  existence  is  merely  the 
postulate  of  your  Reason,  and  is  not  immediately  given  in  the 
facts  of  Consciousness.  The  Idealist,  on  the  contrary,  gives  you 
an  immediate  knowledge  of  things  in  themselves,  consequently 
opens  to  you  the  domain  of  absolute  Truth.  He  only  differs 
from  you  in  saying  that  these  things,  which  you  immediately 
know,  are  part  and  parcel  of  yourself;  and  it  is  because  you  and 
they  are  indissolubly  united,  that  immediate  knowledge  is  pos- 
sible. 

“ But,”  says  Realism,  “ I know  that  objects  are  altogether  in- 
dependent of  me.  I did  not  create  them.  I found  them  there, 
out  of  me.  The  proof  of  this  is  that  if,  after  looking  at  a tree,  I 
turn  away,  or  shut  my  eyes,  the  image  of  the  tree  is  annihilated, 
but  the  tree  itself  remains.” 

“ No,”  answers  Idealism,  “ the  tree  itself  does  not  remain  : for 
the  tree  is  but  a phenomenon,  or  collection  of  phenomena  the 
tree  is  a Perception,  and  all  perceptions  are  subjective.  You 
suppose  that  every  one  must  admit  that  our  ‘perceptions  are  dif- 
ferent from  their  objects.  But  are  they  different  ? that  is  pre- 
cisely the  question  at  issue ; and  you  assume  it.  Let  us  be 
cautious.  What  is  an  object — a tree  for  instance  ? Tell  me, 
what  does  your  Consciousness  inform  you  of?  Let  me  hear 
the  fact,  the  whole  fact,  and  no  inference  from  the  fact.  Is  not 
the  object  (tree)  one  and  the  same  as  your  perception  (tree)  ? Is 
not  the  tree  a mere  name  for  your  perception  ? Does  not  your 
Consciousness  distinctly  tell  you  that  the  Form,  Color,  Solidity, 
and  Smell  of  the  Tree  are  in  you — are  affections  of  your  Sub- 
ject ?” 

“ I admit  that,”  replies  Realism ; “ but  although  these  are  in 
me,  they  are  caused  by  something  out  of  me.  Consciousness  tells 
me  that  very  plainly.” 

“ Does  it  so  ? I tell  you  that  Consciousness  has  no  such 
power.  It  can  tell  you  of  its  own  changes;  it  cannot  trans> 


898 


FICHTE. 


cend  itself  to  tell 'you  anything  about  that  which  causes  its 
changes.” 

“ But  I am  irresistibly  compelled  to  believe,”  says  Realism, 
“ that  there  are  things  which  exist  out  of  me  ; and  this  belief,  be- 
cause irresistible,  is  true.” 

“ Stop ! you  run  on  too  fast,”  replies  Idealism  ; “ your  belief  is 
not  what  }mu  describe  it.  You  are  not  irresistibly  compelled  to 
believe  that  things  exist,  which  said  things  lie  underneath  all 
their  appearances,  and  must  ever  remain  unknown.  This  is  no 
instinctive  belief;  it  is  a philosophic  inference.  Your  belief 
simply  is,  that  certain  things,  colored,  odorous,  extended,  sapid, 
and  solid,  exist;  and  so  they  do.  But  you  infer  that  they  exist 
out  of  you?  Rash  inference.  Have  you  not  admitted  that 
color,  odor,  taste,  extension,  etc.,  are  but  modifications  of  your 
sentient  being;  and  if  they  exist  in  you,  how  can  they  exist  out 
of  you  ? They  do  not : they  seem  to  do  so  by  a law  of  the 
mind  which  gives  objectivity  to  our  sensations.”* 

“Try  your  utmost  to  conceive  an  object  as  any  thing  more 
than  a synthesis  of  perceptions.  You  cannot.  You  may  infer, 
indeed,  that  a substratum  for  all  phenomena  exists,  although  un- 
known, unknowable.  But  on  what  is  your  inference  grounded  ? 
On  the  impossibility  of  conceiving  the  existence  of  qualities — 
extension,  color,  etc. — apart  from  some  substance  of  which  they 
are  qualities.  This  impossibility  is  a figment.  The  qualities 
have  no  need  of  an  objective  substratum,  because  they  have  a 
subjective  substratum  : they  are  the  modifications  of  a sensitive 
subject;  and  the  synthesis  of  these  modifications  is  the  only  sub- 
stratum of  which  they  stand  in  need.  This  may  be  proved  in 
another  way.  The  qualities  of  objects,  it  is  universally  admitted, 
are  but  modifications  of  the  subject : these  qualities  are  attrib- 
uted to  external  objects ; they  are  dependent  upon  the  subject 


* The  difference  between  Berkeley  and  Fichte  is  apparent  here.  The 
former  said  that  the  objects  did  exist  independent  of  tlie  Ego,  but  did  not 
exist  independent  of  the  universal  Mind.  Fichte’s  Idealism  was  Egoism', 
Berkeley’s  was  a theological  Idealism. 


APPLICATION  OF  FICHTf’s  IDEALISM. 


699 


for  their  existence ; and  yet,  to  account  for  their  existence,  it  is 
asserted  that  some  unknown  external  something  must  exist  as  a 
substance  in  which  they  must  inhere.  Now,  it  is  apparent  that, 
inasmuch  as  these  qualities  are  subjective  and  dependent  upon 
the  subject  for  their  existence,  there  can  be  no  necessity  for  an 
object  in  which  they  must  inhere.”  Thus  may  Idealism  defend 
’tself  against  Realism. 

We  have  made  ourselves  the  advocates  of  Fichte’s  principles, 
but  the  reader  will  not  mistake  us  for  disciples  of  Fichte.  In 
the  exposition  of  his  system  we  have,  for  obvious  reasons,  gen- 
erally avoided  his  ■ own  manner,  which  is  too  abstract  to  he 
followed  without  difBculty,  and  we  have  endeavored  to  state  his 
ideas  in  our  own  way.  To  exhibit  Fichte’s  Idealism  is,  strictly 
speaking,  all  that  our  plan  imposes  on  us ; but  although  his  phil- 
osophical doctrines  are  all  founded  upon  it,  and  although  it  was 
the  doctrine  which  made  an  epoch  in  German  Philosophy,  con- 
sequently the  doctrine  which  entitles  him  to  a place  in  this  His- 
tory, nevertheless  we  should  be  doing  him  injustice  and  mislead- 
ing our  readers,  if  we  did  not  give  some  glimpse  of  his  moral 
system.  The  Idealism,  as  Idealism,  seems  little  better  than  an 
ingenious  paradox : only  when  we  see  it  applied  can  we  regard 
it  as  serious.* 

§ V.  Application  of  Fichte’s  Idealism. 

The  Ego  is  essentially  an  Activity ; consequently  free.  But 
this  free  activity  would  lose  itself  in  infinity,  and  would  remain 
without  consciousness — in  fact,  without  existence — did  it  not 

* Those  who  are  curious  to  see  what  he  himself  makes  of  his  system,  are 
referred  to  his  WissenschafUhhre  (of  which  a French  translation  by  M.  Paul 
Grimblot  exists,  under  the  title  of  Doctrine  de  la  Science),  or,  as  a more  pop- 
ular exposition,  to  his  Bestimmung  des  Menschen,  a French  translation  of  which 
has  been  published  by  M.  Barchou  de  Penhoen,  under  the  title  Destination 
ie  VHomnie,  which,  from  the  character  and  learning  of  the  translator,  is,  we 
have  no  doubt,  an  excellent  version.  An  English  translation  has  also  been 
made  by  Mrs.  Percy  Sinnett,  which  can  be  recommended.  Fichte’s  work. 
The  Nature  of  the  Scholar,  has  also  recently  appeared,  by  Mr.  W.  Smith, 
who  has  also  translated  the  Characteristics  of  the  Present  Age. 


roo 


FICHTE. 


encounter  some  resistance.  In  the  effort  to  vanquish  this  resist* 
ance,  it  exerts  its  will,  becomes  conscious  of  something  not  itself, 
and  thereby  becomes  conscious  of  itself.  But  resistance  limits 
freedom,  and  as  an  Activity  the  Ego  is  essentially  free — it  is 
irresistibly  impelled  to  enjoy  perfect  freedom.  This  expansive 
force,  which  impels  the  Ego  to  realize  itself  by  complete  develop- 
ment, and  thereby  assimilating  the  Non-Ego — this  force,  in  as 
far  as  it  is  not  realized,  is  the  aim  of  man’s  existence — it  is  his  duty 

Here  a difference  from  the  ordinary  schools  of  morality  begins 
to  show  itself.  Duty  is  not  a moral  obligation  which  we  are  free  to 
acknowledge  or  reject;  it  is  a pulse  beating  in  the  very  heart  of 
man — a power  inseparable  from  his  constitution  ; and  according 
to  its  fulfilment  is  the  man  complete. 

The  w’orld  does  not  exist  because  w'e  imagine  it,  but  because 
we  believe  it.  Let  all  reality  be  swept  away  by  skepticism — we 
are  not  affected.  Man  is  impelled  by  his  very  nature  to  realize 
his  existence  by  his  acts.  Our  destination  is  not  thought,  but 
action.  Man  is  not  born  to  brood  over  his  thoughts,  but  to  man- 
ifest them — to  give  them  existence.  There  is  a moral  world 
within  ; our  mission  is  to  transport  it  without.  By  this  we  cre- 
ate the  world.  For  wdiat  is  the  condition  of  existence  ? — what 
determines  Thought  to  be?  Simply  that  it  should  realize  itself 
as  an  object.  The  Ego  as  simple  Subject  does  not  exist ; it  has 
only  a potentiality  of  existence.  To  exist,  it  must  realize  itself 
and  become  Subject- Object, 

Mark  the  consequence : Knowing  that  we  carry  within  us  the 
moral  world,  and  that  upon  ourselves  alone  depends  the  attain- 
ment of  so  sublime  an  object  as  the  manifestation  of  this  world, 
it  is  to  ourselves  alone  that  we  must  direct  our  attention.  This 
realization  of  the  world,  what  is  it  but  the  complete  development 
of  ourselves  ? If  we  would  be,  therefore — if  we  would  enjoy  the 
realities  of  existence,  we  must  develop  ourselves  in  the  attempt 
to  incessantly  realize  the  beautiful,  the  useful,  and  the  good. 
Man  is  commanded  to  be  moral  by  the  imperious  necessity  of 
his  own  nature.  To  be  virtuous  is  not  to  obey  some  externa) 


APPLICATION  OF  FICHTE’s  IDEALISM. 


701 


.•aw,  but  to  fulfil  an  internal  law  : this  obedience  is  not  slavery, 
but  freedom ; it  is  not  sacrificing  one  paiiicle  of  freedom  to  any 
other  power,  but  wholly  and  truly  realizing  the  power  within  us 
of  being  free.  . 

Life  is  a combat.  The  free  spirit  of  man,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
finite,  is  limited,  imperfect;  but  it  incessantly  struggles  to  subju- 
gate that  which  opposes  it — it  tends  incessantly  towards  infin- 
ity. Defeated  in  his  hopes,  he  is  sometimes  discouraged,  but 
this  lasts  not  long.  There  is  a well-spring  of  energy  forever 
vital  in  the  heart  of  man ; an  ideal  is  forever  shining  before 
him,  and  that  he  must  attain. 

Man  knows  himself  to  be  free ; knows  also  that  his  fellow- 
men  are  free ; and  therefore  the  duty  of  each  is  to  treat  the 
others  as  beings  who  have  the  same  aim  as  himself.  Individual 
liberty  is  therefore  the  principle  of  all  government : from  it 
Fichte  deduces  his  political  system. 

And  what  says  Fichte  respecting  God  ? He  was,  as  we  know, 
accused  of  atheism.  Let  us  hear  his  real  opinions.  In  his  an- 
swer to  that  charge  we  have  an  abstruse,  but  at  the  same  time 
positive,  exposition  of  his  views.*  God  created  the  world  out  of 
an  inert  mass  of  matter ; and  from  the  evidence  of  design  in  this 
created  world  we  infer  an  intelligent  designer.  This  is  the  com- 
mon  view ; but  Fichte  could  not  accept  it.  In  the  first  place, 
what  we  call  the  World  is  but  the  incarnation  of  our  Duty 
{unsere  Welt  ist  das  versinnlichte  Materia^  unserer  PJlicht),  It 
is  the  objective  existence  of  the  Ego:  we  are,  so  to  speak,  the 
creators  of  it.  Such  a statement  holes  very  like  atheism,  espe- 
cially when  Fichte’s  system  is  not  clearly  apprehended : it  is, 
however,  at  the  worst,  only  Acosmism. 

Nor  could  Fichte  accept  the  evidence  of  Design,  because  De- 
sign is  a mere  conclusion  of  the  understanding,  applicable  only 
to  finite,  transient  things,  wholly  inapplicable  to  the  infinite : 
Design  itself  is  but  a subjective  notion.f 

* GerichUiche  Verantmortungsschriften  gegen  die  Anklage  des  Atheismus. 

t Ibid.,  p.  48. 

47 


FICHTE. 


ro2 

“God,”  says  Fichte,  “must  be  believed  in,  not  inferred.  Faith 
is  the  ground  of  all  conviction,  scientific  or  moral.  Why  do 
you  believe  in  the  existence  of  the  world  ? it  is  nothing  more 
than  the  incarnation  of  that  which  you  carry  within  you,  yet 
you  believe  in  it.  In  the  same  way  God  exists  in  your  Con- 
sciousness, and  you  believe  in  him.  He  is  the  Moral  Order 
{moralische  Ordnung)  of  the  world ; as  such  we  can  know  him, 
and  only  as  such.  For  if  we  attempt  to  attribute  to  him  Intel- 
ligence or  Personality,  we  at  once  necessarily  fall  into  anthropo- 
morphism. God  is  infinite : therefore  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
science,  which  can  only  embrace  the  finite,  but  not  beyond  our 
faith.'^* 

By  our  efforts  to  fulfil  our  Duty,  and  thus  to  realize  the  Good 
and  Beautiful,  we  are  tending  towards  God,  we  live  in  some  meas- 
ure the  life  of  God.  True  religion  is  therefore  the  realization 
of  universal  reason.  If  we  were  all  perfectly  free,  we  should  be 
one;  for  there  is  but  one  Liberty.  If  we  had  all  the  same  con- 
victions, the  law  of  each  would  be  the  law  of  all,  since  all  would 
have  but  one  Will.  To  this  we  aspire ; to  this  Humanity  is 
tending. 

The  germ  of  mysticism  which  lies  in  this  doctrine  was  fully 
developed  by  some  of  Fichte’s  successors,  although  he  himself 
had  particularly  guarded  against  such  an  interpretation,  and  dis- 
tinguishes himself  from  the  mystics. 

Let  us  now  pass  to  jp|[„.hte’s  Philosophy  of  History. 

The  historian  only  accomplishes  half  of  the  required  task. 
He  narrates  the  events  of  an  epoch,  in  their  order  of  occurrence, 
and  in  the  form  of  their  occurrence ; but  he  cannot  be  assured 
that  he  has  not  omitted  some  of  these  events,  or  that  he  has 
given  them  their  due  position  and  significance.  The  philosopher 
must  complete  this  incomplete  method.  He  must  form  some 
idea  of  the  epoch — an  Idea  d priori,  independent  of  experience. 
He  must  then  exhibit  this  Idea  always  dominant  throughout  the 


* Sittenlehre,  pp.  189,  194. 


APPLICATION  OF  FICHTE’s  IDEALISM.  703 

epoch — and  manifesting  itself  in  all  the  mnltiplicity  of  facts, 
which  are  but  its  incarnation.  What  is  the  world  but  an  incar- 
nation of  the  Ego  ? What  is  an  epoch  but  an  incarnation  of  an 
Idea? 

Every  epoch  has  therefore  its  pre-existent  Idea.  And  this 
Idea  will  be  determined  by  the  Ideas  of  the  epochs  which  have 
preceded  it ; and  will  determine  those  which  succeed  it.  Hence 
we  conplude  that  the  evolutions  of  Ideas — or  the  History  of  the 
World — is  accomplished  on  a certain  flan.  The  philosopher 
must  conceive  this  plan  in  its  totality,  that  he  may  from  it 
deduce  the  Ideas  of  the  principal  epochs  in  the  history  of  Hu- 
manity, not  only  as  past,  but  as  future. 

The  question  first  to  be  settled  is  this : What  is  the  ground- 
plan  of  the  world?  or,  in  other  words,  according  to  Fichte, 
What  is  the  fundamental  Idea  which  Humanity  has  to  realize  ? 

The  answer  is : The  Idea  of  Duty.  This,  in  its  concrete  ex- 
pression, is : To  fix  the  relations  of  man  to  man  in  such  order 
that  the  perfect  liberty  of  each  be  compatible  with  the  liberty  of 
the  whole. 

History  may  thus  be  divided  into  two  principal  epochs.  The 
one,  in  which  man  has  not  established  the  social  relations  on  the 
basis  of  reason.  The  other,  in  which  he  has  established  them, 
and  knows  that  he  has  done  so.- 

That  Humanity  exists  but  for  the  successive  and  constant 
realization  of  the  dictates  of  reason  is  easily  proved.  But  some- 
times Humanity  has  knowledge  of  what  it  performs,  and  why  it 
performs  it ; sometimes  it  obeys  but  a blind  impulse.  In  this 
second  case,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  first  epochs  of  the  terrestrial 
existence  of  Humanity,  Reason,  although  not  manifesting  itself 
distinctly,  consciously,  nevertheless  exists.  It  manifests  itself  as 
an  instinct,  and  appears  under  the  form  of  a natural  law ; it 
manifests  itself  in  the  intelligence  only  as  a vague  and  obscure 
sentiment.  Reason,  on  the  contrary,  no  sooner  manifests  itself 
as  Reason,  than  it  is  gifted  with  consciousness  of  itself  and  its 
acts.  This  constitutes  the  second  epoch. 


704 


FICHTE. 


But  Humanity  does  not  pass  at  once  from  the  first  to  the 
second  epoch.  At  first  Reason  only  manifests  itself  in  a few 
men,  the  Great  Men  of  their  age,  who  thereby  acquire  authority. 
They  are  the  instructors  of  their  age  ; their  mission  is  to  elevate 
the  mass  up  to  themselves.  Thus  Instinct  diminishes,  and  Rea- 
son supervenes.  Science  appears.  Morality  becomes  a science. 
The  relations  of  man  to  man  become  more  and  more  fixed  in 
accordance  with  the  dictates  of  reason. 

The  entire  life  of  Humanity  has  five  periods.  I.  The  domina- 
tion of  Instinct  over  Reason : this  is  the  primitive  age.  II.  The 
general  Instinct  gives  place  to  an  external  dominant  Authority  ; 
this  is  the  age  of  doctrines  unable  to  convince,  and  employing 
force  to  produce  a blind  belief,  claiming  unlimited  obedience ; 
this  is  the  period  in  which  Evil  arises.  III.  The  Authority, 
dominant  in  the  preceding  epoch,  but  constantly  attacked  by 
Reapon,  becomes  weak  and  wavering : this  is  the  epoch  of  skep- 
ticism and  licentiousness.  IV.  Reason  becomes  conscious  of  it- 
self; truth  makes  itself  known;  the  science  of  Reason  develops 
itself : this  is  the  beginning  of  that  perfection  which  Humanity 
is  destined  to  attain.  V.  The  science  of  Reason  is  applied ; 
Humanity  fashions  itself  after  the  ideal  standard  of  Reason ; 
this  is  the  epoch  of  Art,  the  last  term  in  the  history  of  our 
species. 

This  brief  outline  of  Fichte’s  system  will  be  sufificient  to  assign 
him  his  place  in  the  long  line  of  European  thinkers  who  have 
worked,  with  such  perseverance,  the  glittering  mine  of  Meta- 
physics ; and  sufficient  also,  we  trust,  not  only  to  stimulate  the 
curiosity  of  such  readers  whose  studies  lie  in  that  direction,  but 
also  to  furnish  them  with  a general  view  capable  of  rendering 
the  details  intelligible. 


LIFE  OF  SCHELLING. 


705 


CHAPTER  II. 

SCHELLING. 

§ I.  Life  of  Schelling. 

Frederick  William  Joseph  Schelling  was  bom  in  Leon- 
berg,  in  Wiirtemberg,  27th  of  January,  1775.  At  the  Uni- 
versity in  Tubingen  he  first  knew  Hegel,  and  their  friendship 
was  enduring  and  productive.  At  Leipzig  he  studied  Medicine 
and  Philosophy ; in  the  latter  he  became  the  pupil  of  Fichte. 
He  afterwards  filled  Fichte’s  vacant  chair  at  Jena,  where  he 
lectured  with  immense  success.  In  1807  he  was  made  a mem- 
ber of  the  Munich  Academy  of  Sciences.  And  in  Bavaria, 
honored,  rewarded,  and  ennobled,  he  remained  till  1842,  when 
the  King  of  Prussia  seduced  him  to  Berlin ; and  there,  in  the 
chair  once  held  by  Hegel,  he  opened  a series  of  lectures,  in 
which  he  was  to  give  the  fruit  of  a life’s  meditation. 

His  appearance  at  Berlin  was  the  signal  for  violent  polemics. 
The  Hegelians  were  all  up  in  arms.  Pamphlets,  full  of  person- 
alities and  dialectics,  were  launched  against  Schelling,  apparent- 
ly without  much  effect.  His  foes  at  length  grew  weary  of 
screaming;  and  he  continued  quietly  to  lecture.  In  1845,  the 
writer  of  this  work  had  the  gratification  not  only  of  hearing 
him  lecture  on  Mythology  to  large  audiences,  but  also  of  hearing 
him  in  the  expansiveness  of  private  conversation  pour  forth  his 
stores  of  varied  knowledge.  His  intellectual  vigor  was  such, 
that  although  seventy  summers  had  whitened  his  hair,  he  seemed 
to  have  still  a long  lease  of  life ; and  indeed  he  continued  nine 
years  longer  to  inspire  the  respect  of  all  who  knew  him.  He 
died  on  the  20th  August,  1854. 


706 


SCHELLING. 


§ II.  Schelling’s  Doctrines. 

Schelling  is  often  styled  the  German  Plato.  In  such  parallels 
there  is  always  some  truth  amidst  much  error.  Schelling’s  works 
unquestionably  exhibit  great  power  of  vivid  imagination  con- 
jined  with  subtle  dialectics ; if  on  this  ground  he  is  to  be  styled 

Plato,  then  are  there  hundreds  to  share  that  title  with  him. 
His  doctrines  have  little  resemblance  to  those  of  his  supposed 
prototype.  Curiously  enough,  his  head  was  marvellously  like 
that  of  Socrates ; not  so  ugly,  but  still  very  like  it  in  general 
character. 

Schelling  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  the  systematizer  of 
a tendency,  always  manifesting  itself,  but  then  in  full  vigor  in 
Germany — the  tendency  towards  Pantheism.  This  tendency  is 
not  merely  the  offspring  of  Mysticism.  It  may  be  recognized  in 
the  clear  Goethe,  no  less  than  in  the  mystical  Novalis.  In  some 
way  or  other,  Pantheism  seems  the  natural  issue  of  almost  every 
Philosophy  of  Eeligion,  when  rigorously  carried  out ; but  Ger- 
many, above  all  European  countries,  has,  both  in  poetry  and 
speculation,  the  most  constantly  reproduced  it.  Her  poets,  her 
artists,  her  musicians,  and  her  thinkers,  have  been  more  or  less 
Pantheists.  Schelling’s  attempt,  therefore,  to  give  Pantheism  a 
scientific  basis,  could  not  but  meet  with  hearty  approbation. 

We  may  here  once  more  notice  the  similarity,  in  historical 
position,  of  the  modern  German  speculations  to  those  of  the 
Alexandrian  Schools.  In  both,  the  incapacity  of  Eeason  to 
solve  the  problems  of  Philosophy  is  openly  proclaimed ; in  both, 
some  higher  faculty  is  called  iu  to  solve  them.  Plotinus  called 
this  faculty  Ecstasy.  Schelling  called  it  the  Intellectual  In- 
tuition. The  Ecstasy  was  not  supposed  to  be  a faculty  possessed 
by  all  men,  and  at  all  times ; it  was  only  possessed  by  the  few, 
and  by  them  but  sometimes.  The  Intellectual  Intuition  was  not 
supposed  to  be  a faculty  common  to  all  men  ; on  the  contrary,  it 
was  held  as  the  endowment  only  of  a few  of  the  privileged : it 
was  the  faculty  for  philosophizing.  Schelling  expresses  his  dis- 


schelling’s  doctrines. 


707 


dain  for  those  who  talk  about  not  comprehending  the  highest 
truths  of  Philosophy.  “Really,”  he  exclaims,  “one  sees  not 
wherefore  Philosophy  should  pay  auy  attention  whatever  to  In- 
capacity. It  is  better  rather  that  we  should  isolate  Philosophy 
from  all  the  ordinary  routes,  and  keep  it  so  separated  from  ordi- 
nary knowledge,  that  none  of  these  routes  should  lead  to  it. 
Philosophy  commences  where  ordinary  knowledge  terminates.”* 
The  highest  truths  of  science  cannot  be  proved,  they  must  be 
apprehended ; for  those  who  cannot  apprehend  them  there  is 
nothing  but  pity ; argument  is  useless. 

After  this,  were  we  to  call  Schelling  the  German  Plotinus,  we 
should  perhaps  be  nearer  the  truth  than  in  calling  him  the  Ger- 
man Plato.  But  it  was  for  the  sake  of  no  such  idle  parallel 
that  we  compared  the  fundamental  positions  of  each.  Our  ob- 
ject was  to  “ point  a moral,”  and  to  show  how  the  same  forms 
of  error  reappear  in  history,  and  how  the  labors  of  so  many 
centuries  have  not  advanced  the  human  mind  in  this  direction 
one  single  step. 

The  first  point  to  be  established  is  the  nature  of  Schelling’s 
improvement  upon  Fichte  : the  relation  in  which  the  two  doc- 
trines stand  to  each  other. 

Fichte’s  Idealism  was  purely  subjective  Idealism.  The  Object 
had  indeed  reality,  but  was  solely  dependent  upon  the  Subject. 
Endeavor  as  we  might,  we  could  never  separate  the  Object  from 
the  Subject,  we  could  never  conceive  a possible  mode  of  exist- 
ence without  being  forced  to  identify  with  it  a Subject.  Indeed 
the  very  conception  itself  is  but  an  act  of  the  Subject.  Admit- 
ting that  we  are  forced  by  the  laws  of  our  mental  constitution  to 
postulate  an  unknown  something,  a Noumenon,  as  the  substance 
in  which  all  phenomena  inhere,  what,  after  all,  is  this  postulate  ? 
It  is  an  act  of  the  Mind  ; it  is  wholly  subjective  ; the  necessity 
for  the  postulate  is  a mental  necessity.  The  Non-Ego  therefore 
!s  the  product  of  the  Ego. 


* Neue  ZeiUchrift-fur  Speculative  Physilc,  ii.  84. 


SCHKLLING. 


ro8 

There  is  subtle  reasoning  in  the  above  ; nay  more,  it  contain? 
a principle  which  is  irrefutable : the  principle  of  the  identity  of 
Object  and  Subject  in  knowledge*  This  Schelling  adopted. 
Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  such  an  admission,  the  nullity  of  the  ex- 
ternal world  was  too  violent  and  repulsive  a conclusion  to  be 
long  maintained  ; and  it  was  necessary  to  see  if  the  principle  of 
identity  might  not  be  preserved,  without  forcing  such  a con- 
clusion. 

The  existence  of  the  objective  world  is  as  firmly  believed  in  as 
the  existence  of  the  subjective  : they  are,  indeed,  both  given  in 
the  same  act.  We  cannot  be  conscious  of  our  own  existence 
without  at  the  same  time  inseparably  connecting  it  with  some 
other  existence  from  which  we  distinguished  ourselves.  So  in 
like  manner  we  cannot  be  aware  of  the  exisf^nce  of  any  thing 
jut  of  ourselves  without  at  the  same  time  inseparably  connecting 
with  it  a consciousness  of  ourselves.  Hence  we  conclude  that 
both  exist ; not  indeed  separately,  not  independently  of  each 
other,  but  identified  in  some  higher  power.  Fichte  said  that  the 
Non-Ego  was  created  by  the  Ego.  Schelling  said  that  the  two 
were  equally  real,  and  that  both  were  identified  in  the  Absolute. 

Knowledge  must  be  knowledge  of  something.  Hence  Knowl- 
edge implies  the  correlate  of  Being.  Knowledge  without  an 
Object  known,  is  but  an  empty  form.  But  Knowledge  and  Be- 
ing are  correlates  ; they  are  not  separable  ; they  are  identified. 
It  is  as  impossible  to  conceive  an  Object  known  without  a Sub- 
ject knowing,  as  it  is  to  conceive  a Subject  knowing  without  an 
Object  known. 

Nature  is  Spirit  visible  ; Spirit  is  invisible  Nature  ;f  the  abso- 
lute Ideal  is  at  the  same  time  the  absolute  Real. 


* This  is  the  stronghold  of  Idealism,  and  we  consider  it  impregnable,  so 
long  as  men  reason  on  the  implied  assamption,  that  whatever  is  true  in 
numan  knowledge  is  equally  true  (i.  e.  actually  so  co-ordinated)  in  fact, 
that  as  things  appear  to  vs  so  they  are  per  se.  And  yet  without  this  assump- 
tion Philosophy  is  impossible. 

t Our  readers  will  recognize  here  a favorite  saying  of  Coleridge,  many 


SCHELLING  S DOCTRINES. 


709 


Hence  Philosophy  has  two  primary  problems  to  solve.  In 
the  Transcendental  Philosophy  the  problem  is  to  construct  Na- 
ture from  Intelligence — the  Object  from  the  Subject.  In  the 
Philosophy  of  Nature  the  problem  is  to  construct  Intelligence 
from  Nature — the  Subject  from  the  Object.*  And  how  are  we 
to  construct  one  from  the  other  ? Fichte  has  taught  us  to  do  so 
by  the  principle  of  the  identity  of  Subject  and  Object,  whereby 
the  productivity  and  the  product  are  in  constant  opposition,  yet 
always  one.  The  productivity  (Thatiylceit)  is  the  activity  in  act; 
it  is  the  force  which  develops  itself  into  all  thingt.  The  pro- 
duct is  the  activity  arrested  and  solidified  into  a fact ; but  it  is 
always  ready  to  pass  again  into  activity.  And  thus  the  world 
is  but  a balancing  of  contending  powers  within  the  sphere  of  the 
Absolute. 

In  what,  then,  does  Schelling  differ  from  Fichte,  since  both 
assert  that  the  product  (Object)  is  but  the  arrested  activity  of 
the  Ego  ? In  this  ; the  Ego  in  Fichte’s  system  is  a finite  Ego — 
it  is  the  human  soul.  The  Ego  in  Schelling’s  system  is  the  Ab- 
solute— the  Infinite — the  All,  which  Spinoza  called  Substance  ; 
and  this  Absolute  manifests  itself  in  two  forms  : in  the  form  of 
the  Ego  and  in  the  form  of  the  Non-Ego — as  Nature  and  as 
Mind. 

The  Ego  produces  the  Non-Ego,  but  not  by  its  own  force,  not 
out  of  its  own  nature  ; it  is  the  universal  Nature  which  works 
within  us  and  which  produces  from  out  of  us  ; it  is  universal 
Nature  which  here  in  us  is  conscious  of  itself.  The  souls  of  men 
are  but  the  innumerable  individual  eyes  with  which  the  Infinite 
World-Spirit  beholds  himself. 

What  is  the  Ego  ? It  is  one  and  the  same  with  the  act  which 
renders  it  an  Object  to  itself.  When  I say  “ myself” — when  I 
form  a conception  of  my  Ego,  what  is  that  but  the  Ego  making 


of  whose  remarks,  now  become  famous,  are  almost  verbatim  from  Schelling 
and  the  two  Schlegels. 

*■  System  des  Transcendentalen  IdealismuSj  p.  7 


no 


SCHELLING. 


itself  an  Object  ? Consciousness  therefore  may  be  defined  the 
objectivity  of  the  Ego.  Very  well ; now  apply  this  to  the  Abso- 
lute. He,  too,  must  be  conscious  of  himself,  and  for  that  he 
must  realize  himself  objectively.  We  can  now  understand 
Schelling  when  he  says,  “ The  blind  and  unconscious  products 
of  Nature  are  nothing  but  unsuccessful  attempts  of  Nature  to 
make  itself  an  Object  {sich  selbst  zu  refiectiren)  ; the  so-called 
dead  Nature  is  but  an  unripe  Intelligence.  The  acme  of  its 
eflforts — that  is,  for  Nature  completely  to  objectize  itself — is  at- 
tained through  the  highest  and  ultimate  degree  of  reflection  in 
Man — or  what  we  call  Reason.  Here  Nature  returns  into  itself, 
and  reveals  its  identity  with  that  which  in  us  is  known  as  the 
Object  and  Subject.”* 

The  function  of  Reason  is  elsewhere  more  distinctly  described 
as  the  total  indifference-point  of  the  subjective  and  objective. 
The  Absolute  he  represents  by  the  symbol  of  the  magnet.  Thus, 
as  it  is  the  same  principle  which  divides  itself  in  the  magnet  into 
the  north  and  south  poles,  the  centre  of  which  is  the  indifierence- 
point,  so  in  like  manner  does  the  Absolute  divide  itself  into  the 
Real  and  Ideal,  and  holds  itself  in  this  separation  as  absolute  in- 
difference.f  And  as  in  the  magnet  every  point  is  itself  a magnet, 
having  a North  pole,  a South  pole,  and  a point  of  indifierence, 
so  also  in  the  Universe,  the  individual  varieties  are  but  varieties 
of  the  eternal  One.  Man  is  a microcosm. 

Reason  is  the  indifference-point.  Whoso  rises  to  it,  rises  to 
the  reality  of  things  (zum  wa,hren  Ansich),  which  reality  is  pre- 
cisely in  the  indifference  of  Object  and  Subject.  The  basis  of 
Philosophy  is  therefore  the  basis  of  Reason  ; its  knowledge  is  a 
knowledge  of  things  as  they  are,  i.  e.  as  they  are  in  Reason.J 

The  spirit  of  Plotinus  revives  in  these  expressions.  We  have 
in  them  the  whole  key-stone  of  the  Alexandrian  School.  The 


* System  des  Tran-scendentalen  Idealismua,  p.  5. 

t Hence  SchelUng’s  philosophy  is  often  styled  the  Indifference  Plii* 
losophy. 

f Zeitschrift fur  Speculative  Physik,  vol.  ii.  heft  2. 


schelling’s  doctkines. 


711 


Intellectual  Intuition  by  wbicb  we  are  to  embrace  tbe  Absolute, 
is,  as  before  remarked,  but  another  form  of  the  Alexandrian 
Ecstasy.  Schelling  was  well  aware  that  the  Absolute,  the  In- 
finite as  such,  could  not  be  known  under  the  conditions  of  finity, 
cannot  be  known  in  personal  consciousness.  How,  then,  can  it 
be  known  ? By  some  higher  faculty  which  discerns  the  identity 
of  Object  and  Subject — which  perceives  the  Absolute  as  Abso- 
lute, where  all  difference  is  lost  in  indifference. 

There  are  three  divisions  in  Schelling’s  system  : the  philosophy 
of  Nature,  the  transcendental  philosophy,  and  the  philosophy  of 
the  Absolute. 

His  speculations  with  respect  to  Nature  have  met  with  consid- 
erable applause  in  Germany.  Ingenious  they  certainly  are,  but 
vitiated  in  Method ; incapable  of  verification.  Those  who  are 
curious  to  see  what  he  makes  of  Nature  are  referred  to  his  Zdt- 
schriftfur  speculative  Physih,  and  his  Ideenzu  einer  PMlosophie 
der  Natur.  The  following  examples  will  serve  to  indicate  the 
character  of  his  speculations.* 

Subject  and  Object  being  identical,  the  absolute  Identity  is  the 
absolute  totality  named  Universe.  There  can  be  no  difference 
except  a quantitative  difference ; and  this  is  only  conceivable 
with  respect  to  individual  existences.  For  the  absolute  Identity 
is  quantitative  indifference  both  of  Object  and  Subject,  and  is 
only  under  this  form.  If  we  could  behold  all  that  is,  and  behold 
it  in  its  totality,  we  should  see  a perfect  quantitative  equality.  It 
is  only  in  the  scission  of  the  Individual  from  the  Infinite  that 
quantitative  difference  takes  place.  This  difference  of  Object  and 
Subject  is  the  ground  of  all  finity;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  quan- 
titative indifference  of  the  two  is  Infinity. 

That  which  determines  any  difference  is  a Power  i^Potenz), 
and  the  Absolute  is  the  Identity  of  all  Powers  {aller  Potenzen), 

* The  reader  must  not  complain  if  he  do  not  understand  what  follows  : 
intelligibility  is  not  the  characteristic  of  German  speculation ; and  we  ar* 
here  only  translating  Schelling’s  words,  without  undertaking  to  enlighten 
their  darkness. 


SCHELLING. 


ri2 

All  matter  is  originally  liquid  ; weight  is  the  power  through 
which  the  Attractive  and  Expansive  force,  as  the  immanent 
ground  of  the  reality  of  Matter,  operates.  Weight  is  the  first 
Potenz.  The  second  Potenz  is  Light — an  inward  intuition  of 
Nature,  as  weight  is  the  outward  intuition.  Identity  with  Light 
is  Transparency.  Heat  does  not  pertain  to  the  nature  of  Light, 
but  is  simply  a modus  existendi  of  Light.  Newton’s  speculations! 
upon  Light  are  treated  with  disdain,  as  a system  built  upon  il- 
logical conclusions,  a system  self-contradictory,  and  leading  to 
infinite  absurdities.  Nevertheless  this  absurd  system  has  led 
men  to  many  discoveries : it  is  the  basis  of  a gradually  advan- 
cing science ; while  the  views  of  Schelling  lead  to  nothing  ex- 
cept disputation.  So  with  his  explanation  of  Electricity : let  us 
suppose  it  exact,  and  we  must  still  acknowledge  it  to  be  useless. 
It  admits  of  no  verification  ; admits  of  no  application.  It  is  ut- 
terly sterile. 

There  are,  indeed,  general  ideas  in  his  Natur-philosophie, 
which  not  only  approach  the  conceptions  of  positive  science,  but 
have  given  a powerful  stimulus  to  many  scientific  intellects.  The 
general  law  of  polarity,  for  example,  which  he  makes*  the  law  of 
universal  nature,  is  seen  illustrated  in  physics  and  chemistry ; al- 
though the  presumed  relation  between  heat  and  oxygen,  which 
he  makes  the  basis  of  all  atomic  changes,  no  chemist  will  nowa- 
days accept.  When,  in  the  second  part  of  this  treatise,  he  the- 
orizes on  organic  life,  the  result  is  similar — namely,  some  general 
ideas  which  seem  luminous  are  enforced  by  particular  ideas  cer- 
tainly false.  He  maintains  that  vegetation  and  life  are  the  prod- 
ucts of  chemical  action  : the  first  consisting  in  a continual  deox- 
idation, the  second  in  a continual  oxidation ; as  soon  as  this 
chemical  action  ceases,  death  supervenes,  for  living  beings  exist 
only  in  the  moment  of  hecoming.\  He  only  expresses  the  uni- 
versally accepted  idea  of  life  when  he  makes  it  depend  on  the 
ncessant  disturbance  and  re-establishment  of  an  equilibrium,!  or, 


Von  der  Wtltseele,  p.  25,  sq. 


t Ihid.,  p.  181.  t Ibid.,  p.  284. 


SCHELLING’s  DOCTEnSTES.  713 

as  De  Blaiaville  defines  it,  “a  continual  movement  of  decompo- 
sition and  recomposition.” 

All  the  functions  of  Life  are  hut  the  individualizations  of  one 
common  principle ; and  all  the  series  of  living  beings  are  but 
the  individualizations  of  one  common  Life  : this  is  the  Weltseele, 
or  anima  mundi.  The  same  idea  had  been  expressed  by  Goethe, 
and  has  since  been  presented,  under  various  forms,  by  Oken  and 
many  German  naturalists.  The  idea  of  a dynamic  progression 
in  Nature,  is  also  the  fundamental  idea  in  Hegel’s  philosophy. 

Schelling,  in  his  JahrbucJier  der  Medicin,  says  that  Science  is 
only  valuable  in  as  far  as  it  is  speculative  ; and  by  spec-lation 
he  means  the  contemplation  of  God  as  He  exists.  Reason,  inas- 
much as  it  affirms  God,  cannot  affirm  any  thing  else,  and  anni- 
hilates itself  at  the  same  time  as  an  individual  existence,  as  any 
thing  out  of  God.  Thought  (das  Denhen)  is  not  my  Thought ; 
and  Being  is  not  my  Being ; for  every  thing  belongs  to  God  or 
the  All,  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a Reason  which  we  have  ; 
but  only  a Reason  that  has  us.  If  nothing  exists  out  of  God, 
then  must  the  knowledge  of  God  be  only  the  infinite  knowledge 
which  God  has  of  himself  in  the  eternal  Self-affirmation.  God 
is  not  the  highest,  but  the  only  One.  He  is  not  to  be  viewed  as 
the  summit  or  the  end,  but  as  the  centre,  as  the  All  in  All. 
Consequently  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a being  lifted  up  to  the 
knowledge  of  God ; but  the  knowledge  is  immediate  recognition. 

If  we  divest  Schelling’s  speculations  of  their  dialectical  forms, 
we  shall  arrive  at  the  following  results : 

Idealism  is  one-sided.  Beside  the  Subject  there  must  exist  an 
Object ; the  two  are  identical  in  a third,  which  is  the  Absolute. 
This  Absolute  is  neither  Ideal  nor  Real — neither  Mind  nor  Na- 
ture— but  both.  This  Absolute  is  God.  He  is  the  All  in  All ; 
the  eternal  source  of  all  existence.  He  realizes  himself  under 
one  form,  as  an  objectivity;  and  under  a second  form  as  a sub- 
‘ectivity.  He  becomes  conscious  of  himself  in  man : and  this 
man,  under  the  highest  form  of  his  existence,  manifests  Reason, 
and  by  this  Reason  God  knows  himself.  Such  are  the  conclu 


7U 


SCHELLING. 


sions  to  which  Schelling’s  philosophy  ^eads  us.  And  now,  wc 
ask,  in  what  does  this  philosophy  differ  from  Spinozism  ? 

The  Absolute,  which  Schelling  assunies  as  the  indifference- 
point  of  Subject  and  Object,  is  but  the  ‘n'purov  dyaSov  and  primal 
Nothing,  which  forms  the  first  Hypostasis  of  the  Alexandrian 
Trinity.  The  Absolute,  as  the  Identity  of  Subject  and  Object, 
being  neither  and  yet  both,  is  but  the  Substance  of  Spinoza, 
whooe  attributes  are  Extension  and  Thought. 

With  Spinoza  also  he  agreed  in  giving  only  a phenomenal  re- 
ality to  the  Object  and  Subject.  With  Spinoza  he  agreed  in 
admitting  but  one  existence — the  Absolute. 

But,  although  agreeing  with  Spinoza  in  his  fundamental  posi- 
tions, he  differed  with  him  in  Method,  and  in  the  applications  of 
those  positions.  In  both  differences  the  superiority,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  is  incontestably  due  to  Spinoza. 

Spinoza  deduced  his  system  very  logically  from  one  funda- 
mental assumption,  viz.  that  whatever  was  true  of  ideas  was 
true  of  objects.  This  assumption  itself  was  not  altogether  ar- 
bitrary. It  was  grounded  upon  the  principle  of  certitude,  which 
Descartes  had  brought  forward  as  the  only  principle  which  was 
irrefragable.  Whatever  was  found  to  be  distinct  and  a priori  in 
Consciousness,  was  irresistibly  true.  Philosophy  was  therefore 
deductive ; and  Spinoza  deduced  his  system  from  the  principles 
laid  down  by  Descartes. 

Schelling’s  Method  was  very  different.  Aware  that  human 
knowledge  was  necessarily  finite,  he  could  not  accept  Spinoza’s 
Method,  because  that  would  have  given  him  only  a knowledge 
of  the  finite,  the  conditioned ; and  such  knowledge,  it  was  ad- 
mitted, led  to  skepticism.  He  was  forced  to  assume  another 
faculty  of  knowing  the  truth,  and  this  was  the  Intellectual  Intu- 
ition. Beason  which  could  know  the  Absolute,  was  only  possible 
by  transcending  Consciousness  and  sinking  into  the  Absolute. 
As  Knowledge  and  Being  were  Identical,  to  know  the  Infinite, 
we  must  he  the  Infinite,  i.  e.  must  lose  our  individuality  in  the 
universal. 


LIFE  OF  HEGEL. 


715 


Consciousness,  then,  which  had  for  so  long  formed  the  basis 
of  all  Philosophy,  was  thrown  over  by  Schelling,  as  incompetent 
to  solve  any  of  its  problems.  Consciousness  was  no  ground  ol 
certitude.  Reason  was  the  organ  of  Philosophy,  and  Reason  was 
hnpenonal.  The  Identity  of  Being  and  Knowing  took  the 
place  of  Consciousness,  and  became  the  basis  of  all  speculation. 
We  shall  see  to  what  it  led  in  Hegel. 

Our  notice  of  Schelling  has  necessarily  been  brie^  not  because 
he  merited  no  greater  space,  but  because  to  have  entered  into 
details  with  any  satisfaction,  would  have  carried  us  far  beyond 
our  limits.  His  works  are  not  only  numerous,  but  differ  consid- 
erably in  their  views.  All  we  have  endeavored  to  represent  is 
the  ideas  which  he  produced  as  developments  of  Fichte,  and 
which  served  Hegel  as  a basis.* 


CHAPTER  HI. 

HEGEL. 

§ I.  Life  of  Hegel. 

George  Frederick  William  Hegel  was  born  at  StUttgard, 
the  27th  of  August,  1770.  He  received  that  classical  education 
which  distinguished  the  Wirtembergian  students  beyond  all 
others ; and  in  his  eighteenth  year  he  went  to  Tubingen,  to  pur- 
sue his  theological  and  philosophical  studies.  He  was  there  a 
fellow-student  with  Schelling,  for  whom  he  contracted  great  es- 
teem. The  two  young  thinkers  communicated  to  each  other 
their  thoughts,  and  discussed  their  favorite  systems.  In  after- 

*■  A French  translation  of  Schelling’s  most  important  wort,  under  the 
title  of  Systime  de  Vldealisme  transcendental^  by  P.  Grimhlot,  the  translator 
of  Fichte,  has  appeared ; also  a version  of  Bruno ; ou,  Zes  Principee  de* 
Choses. 


716 


HEGEL, 


life,  when  opposition  had  sundered  these  ties,  Hegel  never  spoke 
of  this  part  of  their  connection  without  emotion.  In  his  twen- 
tieth year  he  had  to  give  up  all  his  plans  for  a professorship,  and 
was  content  (hunger  impelling)  to  accept  the  place  of  a private 
tutor,  first  in  Switzerland,  and  subsequently  in  Frankfort. 

Early  in  1801  his  father  died;  and  the  small  property  he  in- 
herited enabled  him  to  relinquish  his  tutorship,  and  to  move  to 
Jena,  where  he  published  his  dissertation  De  Orhitis  Planetarum. 
This  work  was  directed  against  the  Newtonian  system  of  Astron- 
omy, It  was  an  application  of  Schelling’s  Philosophy  of  Na- 
ture ; and  in  it  Newton  was  treated  with  that  scorn  which  Hegel 
never  failed  to  heap  upon  Empirics,  i.  e.  those  who  trusted  more 
to  experience  than  to  logic.  In  the  same  year  he  published  his 
Difference  between  Fichte  and  Schelling^  in  which  he  sided  with 
the  doctrines  of  his  friend,  whom  he  joined  in  editing  the  Crit- 
ical Journal  of  Philosophy.  It  is  in  the  second  volume  of  this 
Journal  that  we  meet  with  his  celebrated  essay  Olauhen  und 
Wissen  (Faith  and  Knowledge),  in  which  Kant,  Jacobi,  and 
Fichte  are  criticised. 

At  Jena  he  enjoyed  the  society  of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  The 
former,  with  his  usual  sagacity,  detected  the  philosophical  genius 
which  as  yet  lay  undeveloped  in  Hegel ; of  which  more  may  be 
read  in  Goethe  and  Schiller’s  Correspondence.  Hegel,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  to  the  last  one  of  Goethe’s  stanchest  admirers ; 
and  many  a gleam  of  lustre  is  shed  over  the  pages  of  the  phi- 
losopher by  the  frequent  quotations  of  the  poet. 

At  the  University  of  Jena,  Hegel  then  held  the  post  of  Privat- 
docent  / but  his  lectures  had  only  four  listeners.  These  four,  how- 
ever, were  all  remarkable  men  : Gabler,  Troxler,  Lachmann,  and 
Zellmann.  On  Schelling’s  quitting  Jena,  Hegel  filled  his  chair  ; 
but  filled  it  only  for  one  year.  Here  he  published  his  Phanorne- 
%ologie  des  Geistes.  He  finished  writing  this  work  on  the  night 
of  the  ever-memorable  battle  of  Jena.  While  the  artillery  was 
roaring  under  the  walls,  the  philosopher  was  deep  in  his  work, 
unconscious  of  all  that  was  going  on.  He  continued  writing,  as 


HEGEL ’S  METHOD. 


717 


A.rcliimedes  at  the  siege  of  Syracuse  continued  his  scientific  re- 
searches. The  next  morning,  manuscript  in  hand,  he  steps  into 
the  streets,  proceeding  to  his  publisher’s,  firmly  convinced  that 
the  interests  of  mankind  are  bound  up  with  that  mass  of  writing 
which  he  hugs  so  tenderly.  The  course  of  his  reverie  is  some- 
what violently  interrupted ; bearded  and  gesticulating  French 
soldiers  arrest  the  philosopher,  and  significantly  enough  inform 
him  that,  for  the  present,  the  interests  of  men  lie  elsewhere  than 
in  manuscripts.  In  spite  of  French  soldiers,  however,  the  work 
in  due  time  saw  the  light,  and  was  welcomed  by  the  p nilosophical 
world  as  a new  system — or  rather  as  a new  modification  ofSchel- 
ling’s  system.  The  editorship  of  the  Bamberg  newspaper  was 
then  oflfered  him,  and  he  quitted  Jena.  He  did  not  long  remain 
at  Bamberg ; for  in  the  autumn  of  1808  we  find  him  Rector  of 
the  Gymnasium  College  at  Niimberg.  He  shortly  after  married 
Fraulcin  von  Tucher,  with  whom  he  passed  a happy  life,  and 
who  bore  him  two  sons.  In  1816  he  was  called  to  the  chair 
of  Heidelberg,  and  published  in  1817  his  JEncyclopadie  der  Philos. 
Wissenschaften,  which  contains  an  outline  of  his  system.  This 
work  so  exalted  his  reputation  that  in  1818  he  was  called  to  the 
chair  of  Berlin,  then  the  most  important  in  Germany,  He 
there  lectured  for  thirteen  years,  and  formed  a school,  of  which  it 
is  sufficient  to  name  its  members  Gans,  Rosenkranz,  Michelet, 
Werder,  Marheinecke,  and  Hotho. 

Hegel  was  seized  with  cholera  in  1831,  and  after  a short  ill- 
ness expired,  in  the  sixty-second  year  of  his  age,  on  the  24th  of 
November,  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Leibnitz. 

§ II.  Hegel’s  Method. 

Schelling’s  doctrines  were  never  systematically  cc-ordinated. 
He  was  subtle,  ardent,  and  audacious ; but  he  disregarded  pre- 
cision ; and  stood  in  striking  contradiction  to  his  predecessors, 
Kant  and  Fichte,  in  the  absence  of  logical  forms. 

The  effect  of  his  teaching  was  felt  more  in  the  department  of 
the  philosophy  of  nature  than  elsewhere.  Crowds  of  disciples^ 
48 


HEGEL. 


ri8 

some  of  them,  as  Oken  and  Steffens,  illustrious  disciples,  attempt- 
ed the  application  of  his  principles ; and  after  a vast  quantity  of 
ingenious  but  sterile  generalization,  it  was  found  that  these  prin- 
ciples led  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion. 

Schelling’s  .deas  were,  however,  very  generally  accepted  in  the 
philosophical  world  at  the  time  Hegel  appeared.  These  ideas 
were  thought  to  be  genuine  intuitions  of  the  truth  ; the  only  draw- 
back was  their  want  of  systematic  co-ordination.  They  were 
inspirations  of  the  truth  ; and  demonstrations  were  needed.  The 
position  Hegel  was  to  occupy  became  therefore  very  clear. 
Either  he  must  destroy  those  ideas  and  bring  forward  others ; or 
he  must  accept  them,  and,  in  accepting,  systematize  them.  This 
latter  was  no  easy  task,  and  this  was  the  task  he  chose.  In  the 
course  of  his  labors  he  deviated  somewhat  from  Schelling,  because 
the  rigorous  conclusions  of  his  logic  made  such  deviations  neces- 
sary ; but  these  are,  after  all,  nothing  but  modifications  of  Schel- 
ling’s ideas ; very  often  nothing  but  different  expressions  for  the 
same  ideas. 

What  then  constitutes  Hegel’s  glory  ? What  is  the  nature  of 
his  contribution  to  philosophy,  and  what  has  placed  him  on  so  high 
a pedestal  of  renown  ? It  is  nothing  less  than  the  invention  of 
a new  Method.* 

The  invention  of  a method  has  always  been  considered  the 
greatest  effort  of  philosophical  genius,  and  the  most  deserving  of 
the  historian’s  attention.  K methodL  \s  2i  path  of  transit.  Who 
so  discovers  a path  whereon  mankind  may  travel  in  quest  of  truth, 
has  done  more  towards  the  discovery  of  truth  than  thousands  of 
men  merely  speculating.  What  had  the  observation  and  specu- 
lation of  centuries  done  for  astronomy  before  the  right  path  was 
found  ? And  if  a method  could  be  found  for  philosophy — if  a 
path  of  transit  from  the  phenomenal  to  the  noumenal  world  could 
be  found — should  we  not  then  be  quickly  in  possession  of  the  truth? 

* This  is  the  claim  put  up  by  his  disciple,  Michelet,  OescTi.  der  Systeme  der 
Philos,  ii.  604-5  ; who  declares  Hegel’s  method  to  be  all  that  can  properly  be 
called  his  own.  Comp.  Hegel’s  Vermischte  Schriften,\u 


HEGEL  S METHOD. 


719 


A Method  is  all-important.  The  one  invented  by  Descartes 
seemed  promising ; but  it  led  to  Malebranche  and  Spinoza.  The 
one  invented  by  Locke  had  obvious  excellences ; but  it  was  a 
path  of  transit  to  Berkeley  and  Hume.  That  of  Kant  led  to 
Fichte  and  Skepticism. 

Curious  to  consider ! In  the  modern  as  in  the  ancient  world, 
the  inevitable  results  of  a philosophical  Method  are  Idealism  and 
Skepticism.  One  class  of  minds  is  led  to  Idealism  or  Mysticism  ; 
another  class  is  led  to  Skepticism.  But  as  both  these  conclusions 
are  repugnant  to  the  ordinary  conclusions  of  mankind,  they  are 
rejected,  and  the  Method  which  led  to  them  is  also  rejected.  A 
new  one  is  found  ; hopes  beat  high ; truth  is  about  to  be  discov- 
ered ; the  search  is  active,  and  the  result — always  the  same — re- 
pugnant Idealism  or  Skepticism.  Thus  struggling  and  baffled, 
hoping  and  dispirited,  has  Humanity  forever  renewed  the  con- 
flict, without  once  gaining  a victory.  Sisyphus  rolls  up  the 
heavy  stone,  which  no  sooner  reaches  a certain  point  than  down 
it  rolls  to  the  bottom,  and  all  the  labor  is  to  begin  again. 

We  have  already  traced  the  efibrts  of  many  noble  minds  ; we 
have  seen  the  stone  laboriously  rolled  upwards,  and  seen  it  swift- 
ly roll  down  again.  We  have  seen  Methods  discovered ; we  have 
followed  adventurous  spirits  as  they  rushed  forward  to  conquest ; 
and  seen  the  discouragement,  the  despair  which  possessed  them, 
as  they  found  their  paths  leading  only  to  a yawning  gulf  of 
Skepticism,  or  a baseless  cloud-land  of  Idealism.  We  have  now 
to  witness  this  spectacle  once  more.  We  have  to  see  whither 
Hegel’s  Method  can  conduct  us. 

And  what  is  this  Method  which  Hegel  discovered  ? Accepting 
as  indisputable  the  identity  of  Object  and  Subject,  he  was  forced 
also  to  accept  the  position,  that  whatever  was  true  of  the  thought 
was  true  of  the  thing.  In  other  words.  Mind  and  Matter  being 
identical.  Ideas  and  Objects  were  correlates,  and  equally  true. 
This  wjs  the  position  upon  which  Descartes  stood;  the  position 
upon  which  Spinoza  stood.  Schelling  and  Hegel  arrived  at  this 
position  by  a different  route,  but  they  also  took  their  stand  upon  it. 


720 


HE3EL. 


Now,  it  is  evident  that  such  a position  is  exposed  to  attacks  on 
all  sides ; to  none  more  so  than  the  contradictions  which  rise  up 
from  within  it.  If  whatever  is  true  of  Ideas  is  true  also  of  Objects, 
a thousand  absurdities  bristle  up.  Thus,  as  Kant  said,  there  is 
considerable  difference  between  thinking  we  possess  a hundred 
dollars,  and  possessing  them.  Hegel’s  answer  is  delicious : he 
declares  that  “ Philosophy  does  not  concern  itself  with  such 
things  as  a hundred  dollars  !”  (daran  ist  philosophisch  nicJits  zu 
erkennen)  Philosophy  directs  its  thoughts  only  towards  that 
which  is  necessary  and  eternal. 

Very  well;  let  such  miserable  illustrations  as  that  of  dollars 
be  banished  from  discourse ; let  us  concern  ourselves  only  with 
what  is  necessary  and  eternal ; let  us  confine  ourselves  to  abstract 
tions.  Are  there  no  contradictions  here  between  Thoughts  and 
Realities  ? For  example,  we  have  the  Thought  of  Non-existence  : 
does  therefore  this  Non-existence  which  is  our  Thought  also 
possess  an  objective  being?  Is  there  a Non-existence  ? 

We  have  chosen  this  idle  question,  because  Hegel  himself  has 
forced  us  to  it.  He  boldly  says,  that  the  Non-existence — the 
Nothing — exists,  because  it  is  a Thought  (das  Nichts  ist ; denn 
es  ist  ein  Gedanke).  It  is  not,  however,  merely  a Thought,  but 
it  is  the  same  Thought  as  that  of  a pure  Being  [Segn),  viz.  an 
entirely  unconditioned  Thought. 

In  this,  coupled  with  his  famous  axiom,  that  “ Being  and  Non- 
Being  are  the  same”  {^Seyn  und  Nichts  ist  dasselbe),  we  have 
two  of  the  curious  results  to  which  his  Method  led  him.  It  was 
the  Method  of  Descartes,  founded  upon  Descartes’  principle  of 
the  truth  of  ideas  being  equivalent  to  the  truth  of  things  ; but 
inasmuch  as  this  met  with  strong  opposition  from  various  sides, 
Hegel  resolved  to  give  it  a deeper,  firmer  basis,  a basis  that  went 
underneath  these  contradictions.  The  basis  was  his  principle  of 
the  identity  oj  contraries. 

Two  contraries  are  commonly  supposed  to  exclude  each  other 
reciprocally ; Existence  excludes  Non-Existence.  This  notion 
Hegel  pronounces  to  be  false.  Every  thing  is  contradictorv  in 


Hegel’s  method. 


721 


itself:  contradiction  forms  its  essence:  its  iientity  consists  in 
being  the  union  of  two  contraries.  Thus  Being  {Seyn)  consid- 
ered absolutely — considered  as  unconditioned — that  is  to  say,  as 
Being  in  the  abstract,  apart  from  any  individual  thing,  is  the 
same  as  Nothing.  Existence  is  therefore  identical  with  its  nega- 
tion. But  to  conclude  that  there  is  not  Existence,  would  be 
false  ; for  the  abstract  Nothing  {Nichts)  is  at  the  same  time  the 
abstract  Being.  We  must  therefore  unite  these  two  contraries, 
and  in  so  doing  we  arrive  at  a middle  term — the  realization*  of 
the  two  in  one,  and  this  is  conditioned  Existence — it  is  the  world. 

Here  is  another  example.  In  pure  light — that  is,  light  without 
color  or  shadow — we  should  be  totally  unable  to  see  any  thing. 
Absolute  clearness  is  therefore  identical  with  absolute  obscurity — 
with  its  negation,  in  fact;  but  neither  clearness  nor  obscurity 
are  complete  alone  : by  uniting  them  we  have  clearness  mingled 
with  obscurity ; that  is  to  say,  we  have  Light  properly  so  called. 

Hegel  thus  seized  the  bull  by  the  horns.  Instead  of  allowing 
himself  to  be  worsted  by  the  arguments  derived  from  the  con- 
tradictions to  which  the  identity  of  Existence  and  Knowledge 
was  exposed,  he  at  once  met  the  diflSculty  by  declaring  that  the 
identity  of  contraries  was  the  very  condition  of  all  existence ; 
without  a contrary  nothing  could  come  into  being.  This  was 
logical  audacity  which  astounded  his  countrymen,  and  they  have 
proclaimed  this  feat  worthy  of  immortal  glory.  A new  light 
seemed  to  be  thrown  upon  the  world : a new  aspect  was  given 
to  all  existences.  Being  was  at  the  same  time  Non-Being ; Sub- 
ject was  at  the  same  time  Object;  and  Object  was  Subject: 
Force  was  at  the  same  time  Impotence;  Light  was  also  Dark- 
ness, and  Darkness  was  also  Light. 

“Nothing  in  this  world  is  single; 

All  things,  by  a law  divine, 

In  one  another’s  being  mingle.” 

The  merit  of  this  discovery,  whatever  may  be  its  value,  is 

* The  original  word  is  werden — the  hecoming.  It  is  much  used  in  German 
(peculation  to  express  the  transition  from  Non-being  to  Being. 


722 


HEGEL. 


considerably  diminished  when  we  remember  how  distinctly  it 
was  enunciated  in  ancient  Greece.  Heraclitus  had  told  us  how 
“ All  is,  and  is  not ; for  though  it  comes  into  being,  yet  it  forth- 
with ceases  to  be.”  Empedocles  had  told  us  how  there  was 
“ Nothing  but  a mingling  and  then  a separation  of  the  mingled.” 
Indeed  the  constant  flux  and  reflux  of  life,  the  many  changes, 
and  the  compound  nature  of  all  things,  must  early  have  led 
men  to  such  a view.  Hegel  himself  admits  that  all  the  posi- 
tions maintained  by  Heraclitus  have  been  by  him  developed 
in  his  Logic.  What  then  was  wanting  to  Heraclitus — what 
is  the  great  merit  of  Hegel?  A perception  of  the  logical 
law  of  the  identity  of  contraries.  To  this  Hegel  has  the  sole 
claim. 

Here,  then,  is  the  foundation-stone  of  Hegel’s  system.  He 
adopts  the  principle  of  the  identity  of  Subject  and  Object.  This 
principle  being  pronounced  false,  because  it  leads  to  manifest 
contradictions,  Hegel  replies  that  the  principle  is  true ; and  that 
it  must  lead  to  contradictions,  because  the  identity  of  contraries 
is  the  condition  of  all  existence. 

Such  is  the  Method  which  admiring  disciples  extol  as  the 
greatest  efifort  of  Philosophy,  as  the  crown  of  all  previous  spec- 
ulations ; and  even  in  France  it  has  been  in  some  quarters  ac- 
cepted as  a revelation. 

The  law  being  given,  we  may  now  give  the  process.  Let  us 
take  any  one  Idea  (and  with  Hegel  an  Idea  is  a reality,  an  Ob- 
ject, not  simply  a modification  of  the  Subject) ; this  Idea,  by  its 
inherent  activity,  tends  to  develop  that  which  is  within  it.  This 
development  operates  a division  of  the  Idea  into  two  parts — a 
positive  and  a negative.  Instead  of  one  Idea  we  have  therefore 
two,  which  reciprocally  exclude  each  other.  The  Idea,  therefore, 
by  the  very  act  of  development,  only  conduces  to  its  own  nega- 
tion. But  the  process  does  not  stop  there.  The  negation  itself 
must  be  negatived.  By  this  negation  of  its  negation,  the  Idea 
returns  to  its  primitive  force.  But  it  is  no  longer  the  same.  It 
has  developed  all  that  it  contained.  It  has  absorbed  its  contrary 


ABSOLUTE  IDEALISM. 


723 


Thus  the  negation  of  the  negation,  by  suppressing  the  negation, 
at  the  same  time  preserves  it.* 

We  may,  by  way  of  anticipation,  observe  that  Hegel’s  notion  of 
God  becoming  conscious  of  Himself  in  Philosophy,  and  thereby  at- 
taining His  highest  development,  is  founded  on  the  above  process. 
God  as  pure  Being  can  only  pass  into  reality  through  a nega- 
tion ; in  Philosophy  He  negatives  this  negation,  and  thus  becomes 
a positive  alBrmation. 

§ III.  Absolute  Idealism. 

We  have  seen  Hegel’s  Method.  Whether  that  be  a path  of 
transit  to  the  domain  of  truth,  or  only  to  the  cloud-land  of  mys- 
ticism and  the  bogs  of  absurdity,  our  readers  will  very  soon 
decide.  Meanwhile  we  must  further  detail  Hegel’s  opinions ; we 
must  see  whither  his  Method  did  lead  him. 

As  every  thing  contains  within  itself  a contradiction,  and  as 
the  identity  of  the  two  constitutes  its  essence,  so  we  may  say 
that  Schelling’s  conception  of  the  identity  of  Subject  and  Ob- 
ject was  not  altogether  exact.  He  assumed  the  reality  of  both 
of  these  poles  of  the  magnet ; and  the  identity  he  called  the 
point  of  indifference  between  them.  These  two  extremities  were 
always  separate,  though  identified.  Hegel  declared  that  the 
essence  of  all  relation — that  which  is  true  and  positive  in  every 
relation — is  not  the  two  terms  related,  but  the  relation  itself. 
This  is  the  basis  of  Absolute  Idealism. 

It  may  be  thus  illustrated.  I see  a tree.  Psychologists  tell 
me  that  there  are  three  things  implied  in  this  one  fact  of  vision, 
viz.  a tree,  an  image  of  that  tree,  and  a mind  which  apprehends 
that  image.  Fichte  tells  me  that  it  is  I alone  who  exist ; the 
tree  and  the  image  of  the  tree  are  but  one  thing,  and  that  is  a 
modification  of  my  mind.  This  is  Subjective  Idealism.  Schel- 
ling  tells  me  that  both  the  tree  and  my  Ego  are  existences 

* This  play  upon  words  is  assisted  by  the  German  avfheben,  which  means 
‘to  suppress”  as  well  as  “to  preserve.”  See  Ott,  Hegel  et  la  Philos.  Alls 
mande,  p.  80. 


72i 


HEGEL. 


equally  real  or  ideal,  but  they  are  nothing  less  than  manifesta- 
tions of  the  Absolute.  This  is  Objective  Idealism.  But,  accord- 
ing to  Hegel,  all  these  explanations  are  false.  The  only  thing 
really  existing  (in  this  one  fact  of  vision)  is  the  Idea — the  rela- 
tion. The  Ego  and  the  Tree  are  but  two  terms  of  the  relation, 
and  owe  their  reality  to  it.  This  is  Absolute  Idealism. 

Of  the  three  forms  of  Idealism,  this  is  surely  the  most  pre- 
posterous ; and  that  any  sane  man — not  to  speak  of  a man  so 
eminent  as  Hegel — should  for  an  instant  believe  in  the  correct- 
ness of  the  logic  which  “ brought  him  to  this  pass” — that  he 
should  not  at  once  reject  the  premises  frcni  which  such  conclu- 
sions followed — must  ever  remain  a wonder  to  all  sober  thinkers 
— must  ever  remain  a striking  illustration  of  the  unbounded  con 
fidence  in  bad  logic  which  distinguishes  metaphysicians — 

“ Gens  ratione  ferox,  et  mentem  pasta  chimaeris.” 

Truly,  a race  mad  with  logic,  and  feeding  the  mind  with  chi 
meras. 

What  does  this  Absolute  Idealism  bring  us  to  ? It  brings  us 
to  a world  of  mere  “ relations.”  The  Spinozistic  notion  of  “ Sub- 
stance” was  too  gross.  To  speak  of  Substance,  was  to  speak  only 
of  one  term  of  a relation.  The  Universe  is  but  the  Universe  ot 
Ideas,  which  are  at  once  both  Objective  and  Subjective,  their  es- 
sence consisting  in  the  relation  they  bear  to  each  other,  in  the 
identity  of  their  contradiction. 

Remark,  also,  that  this  Absolute  Idealism  is  nothing  but 
Hume’s  Skepticism,  in  a dogmatical  form.  Hume  denied  the 
existence  of  Mind  and  Matter,  and  said  there  was  nothing  but 
Ideas.  Hegel  denies  the  existence  of  both  Object  and  Subject, 
and  saj-s  there  is  nothing  but  the  “relations”  of  the  two.  He 
blames  Kant  for  having  spoken  of  Things  as  if  they  were  only 
appearances  to  us  [Erscheinungen  fur  uns)  while  their  real  na- 
ture [Ansich)  was  inaccessible.  The  real  relation,  he  says,  is 
this : that  the  Things  we  know  are  not  only  appearances  to  us, 
but  are  in  themselves  mere  appearances  {sondern  an  sich  blosse 
Erscheinungen).  The  real  Objectivity  is  this ; that  our  Thoughts 


ABSOLUTE  IDEALISM.  725 

are  not  only  Thoughts,  but  at  the  same  time  are  the  reality  of 
Things.'*' 

This  is  the  Philosophy — not  a Philosophy,  remember — not  a 
system  •which  may  take  its  place  amongst  other  systems.  No, 
it  is  the  Philosophy  par  excellence.  We  have  Hegel’s  -word  for 
it  ;f  we  have  the  confirmation  of  that  word  by  many  ardent  dis- 
ciples. True  it  is,  that  some  of  the  young  Hegelians,  when  re- 
proached with  the  constant  changes  they  introduce,  reply  that  it 
belongs  to  the  nature  of  Philosophy  to  change.  But  these  are 
inconsiderate,  rash  young  men.  Mature  and  sober  thinkers  (of 
Hegel’s  school)  declare  that,  although  some  improvements  are 
possible  in  detail,  yet  on  the  whole  Hegel  has  given  the  Philos- 
ophy to  the  world. 

And  this  philosophy  is  not  a system  of  doctrines  whereby  man 
is  to  guide  himself.  It  is  something  far  greater.  It  is  the  con- 
templation of  the  self-development  of  the  Absolute.  Hegel  con- 
gratulates mankind  upon  the  fact  of  a new  epoch  having  dawned. 
“ It  appears,”  says  he,  “that  the  World-Spirit  [Weltgeist)  has  at 
last  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  from  all  encumbrances,  and  is 
able  to  conceive  himself  as  Absolute  Intelligence  (sich  als  abso- 

luten  Geist  zu  erfassen) For  he  is  this  only  in  as 

far  as  he  knows  himself  to  be  the  Absolute  Intelligence : and 
this  he  knows  only  in  Science  ; and  this  knowledge  alone  consti- 
tutes his  true  existence."^ 

Such  pretensions  would  be  laughable,  were  they  not  so  painful 
to  contemplate.  To  think  not  only  of  one  man,  and  that  one 
remarkable  for  the  subtlety  of  his  intellect,  a subtlety  which  was 
its  bane,  together  with  many  other  men — some  hundred  or  so, 
all  rising  above  the  ordinary  level  of  ability — one  and  all  cul- 
tivating, as  the  occupation  of  their  lives,  a science  with  such 
pretensions,  and  with  such  a Method  as  that  of  the  identity  of 

* “ Dass  die  Gedanken  nicht  bloss  unsere  Gedankeu,  sondern  zugleich  daa 
Ansich  der  Dinge  und  des  Gegenstandliclien  iiberhaupt  sind.” — Encyclopddie, 
p.  89 ; see  also  p.  97.  The  whole  of  this  Introduction  to  the  EncycU/p'ddie  ij 
worth  consulting, 
t Gesch.  der  Philos,  iii.  690. 


t Ibid.  iii.  689. 


726 


HEGEL. 


contraries ! The  delusions  daily  to  be  seen  are  those  of  ij^no- 
rance,  and  only  depend  upon  ignorance.  But  the  delusions  of 
Metaphysics  are  the  delusions  of  an  ambitious  intelligence  which 
“ o’erleaps  itself.”  Men  such  as  Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Hegel, 
for  example,  belong  incontestably  to  a high  order  of  intelligences ; 
yet  we  have  seen  to  what  their  reasonings  brought  them ; we 
have  seen  what  absurdities  they  could  accept,  believing  they  had 
found  the  truth.  Hegel  especially  impresses  you  with  a sense  of 
his  wonderful  power.  His  works  w'e  have  always  found  very 
suggestive ; his  ideas,  if  repugnant  to  what  we  regard  as  the 
truth,  are  yet  so  coherent,  so  systematically  developed,  so  obvi- 
ously coming  from  matured  meditation,  that  we  have  always 
risi^  from  the  perusal  with  a sense  of  the  author’s  greatness; 
We  allude  especially  to  his  Lectures  on  Esthetics,  his  History 
of  Philosophy^  his  Philosophy  of  History^  and  his  Philosophy 
of  Religion. 

As  for  the  system  itself,  we  may  leave  to  all  readers  to  decide 
whether  it  be  worthy  of  any  attention,  except  as  an  illustration  of 
the  devious  errors  of  speculation.  A system  which  begins  with 
assuming  that  Being  and  Non-Being  are  the  same,  because  Being 
in  the  abstract  must  be  conceived  as  the  Unconditioned,  and  so 
must  Non-Being,  therefore  both,  as  unconditioned,  are  the  same ; 
a system  which  proceeds  upon  the  identity  of  contraries  as  the 
method  of  Philosophy  ; a system  in  which  Thought  is  the  same  as 
the  Thing,  and  the  Thing  is  the  same  as  the  Thought;  a system 
in  which  the  only  real  positive  existence  is  that  of  simple  Relation, 
the  two  terms  of  which  are  Mind  and  Matter  ; — this  system,  were  it 
wholly  true,  leaves  all  the  questions  for  which  science  is  useful  as 
a light,  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever,  and  is  therefore  unwor- 
thy the  attention  of  earnest  men  working  for  the  benefit  of 
mankind. 

Not  only  is  it  useless  ; it  is  worse,  it  is  pernicious.  The  facility 
with  which  men  can  throw  all  questions  into  the  systematic  ob- 
scurity of  metaphysics,  has  long  been  the  bane  of  German  Liter- 
ature and  Thought.  In  England  and  France  we  have  been 


Hegel’s  logic. 


727 


saved  from  perpetuating  the  frivolous  discussions  of  the  School 
men,  mainly  because  we  have  retained  their  nomenclature  and 
terminology,  and  are  warned  by  these  from  off  scholastic  ground ; 
but  the  Germans,  having  invented  a new  philosophical  language, 
do  not  perceive  that  the  new  terms  disguise  old  errors ; they  fail 
to  recognize  in  Irrlicht  the  familiar  face  of  Ignis  fatuus. 

§ IV.  Hegel’s  Logic. 

Philosophy  being  the  contemplation  of  the  self-development  of 
the  Absolute,  or,  as  Hegel  sometimes  calls  it,  the  representation 
of  the  Idea  {Darstellung  der  Idee),  it  first  must  be  settled  in  what 
directions  this  development  takes  place. 

The  process  is  this.  Every  thing  must  be  first  considered 
per  se  [an  sich) ; next  in  its  negation,  or  some  other  thing  [An- 
derseyn).  These  are  the  two  terms — the  contraries;  but  they 
must  be  identified  in  some  third,  or  they  cannot  exist ; this  third 
is  the  Relation  of  the  two  (the  Anundfursichseyri).  This  is  the 
afiSrmation  which  is  founded  on  the  negation  of  a negation  : it  is 
therefore  positive,  real. 

The  Absolute,  which  is  both  Thought  and  Being,  must  be  con- 
sidered in  this  triple  order,  and  philosophy  falls  into  three  parts : 

I.  Logic,  the  science  of  the  Idee’*  an  und  fur  sich. 

II.  Nature-philosophy,  as  the  science  of  the  Idee  in  its  An- 
derseyn. 

HI.  Philosophy  of  Intelligence,  as  the  Idee  which  has  re- 
tnrned  from  its  Anderseyn  to  itself. 

Logic,  in  this  system,  has  a very  different  meaning  from  that 
usually  given  to  the  word.  It  is,  indeed,  equally,  with  the  com- 
mon logic,  an  examination  of  the  forms  of  Thought ; but  it  is 
more  : — it  is  an  examination  of  Things,  no  less  than  of  Thoughts. 
As  Object  and  Subject  are  declared  identical,  and  whatever  is 
trne  of  the  Thought  is  equally  true  of  the  Thing,  since  the 


* The  Idee  is  but  another  term  for  the  Absolute.  W e shall  use  it,  rather  than 
Idea,  because  the  English  word  cannot  be  employed  without  creating  un- 
necessary confusion. 


728 


HEttEL. 


Thought  is  the  thing,  Logic,  of  course,  takes  ihe  place  of  the 
ancient  Logic,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  Metaphysics.  It  is  the 
generation  of  all  abstract  ideas.  Consequently  it  contains  the 
whole  system  of  Science ; and  the  other  parts  are  but  the  appli- 
cation of  this  Logic. 

Hegel’s  Logic  is  contained  in  three  stout  volumes  of  dry  hard 
scholasticism.  It  is  a representation  of  the  Idee,  in  its  process 
of  pure  thought,  free  from  all  contact  with  objects.  It  is  wholly 
abstract.  It  begins  with  pure  Being.  This  pure  Being,  in  vir- 
tue of  its  purity,  is  unconditioned  ; but  that  which  has  no  condi- 
tions has  no  existence  : it  is  a pure  abstraction.  Now  a pure  ab- 
straction is  also  the  Nothing  (das  Nichts)  : it  also  has  no  condi- 
tions; its  unconditionalness  makes  its  nothingness.  The  first 
proposition  in  Logic  is,  therefore,  “ Being  and  Non-Being  are  the 
same.” 

Hegel  admits  the  proposition  to  be  somewhat  paradoxical,  and 
is  fully  aware  of  its  openness  to  ridicule  ; but  he  is  not  a man 
to  be  scared  by  a paradox,  to  be  shaken  by  a sarcasm.  He  is 
aware  that  stupid  common-sense  will  ask,  “ whether  it  is  the 
same  if  my  house,  my  property,  the  air  I breathe,  this  town,  sun^ 
the  law,  mind,  or  God,  exist  or  not.”  Certainly,  a very  pertinent 
question : how  does  he  answer  it  ? “ In  such  examples,”  he 

sa}  s,  “ particular  ends — utility,  for  instance — are  understood,  and 
then  it  is  asked  if  it  is  indifierent  to  me  whether  these  useful 
things  exist  or  not  ? But,  in  truth,  Philosophy  is  precisely  the 
doctrine  which  is  to  free  man  from  innumerable  finite  aims  and 
ends,  and  to  make  him  so  indifferent  to  them  that  it  is  really  all 
the  same  whether  such  things  exist  or  not.”  Here  we  trace  the 
Alexandrian  influence ; except  that  Plotinus  would  never  have  had 
the  audacity  to  say  that  Philosophy  was  to  make  us  indifierent 
whether  God  existed  or  not ; and  it  must  have  been  a slip  of  the 
pen  which  made  Hegel  include  God  in  the  examples : a slip  of 
the  pen,  or  else  the  “ rigor  of  his  pitiless  logic,”  of  which  his  dis- 
ciples talk.  “ Pitiless’’  indeed  ! — more  ’ntrepid  absurdity  it 
would  be  difiicult  to  find. 


Hegel’s  logic. 


729 


Remark,  also,  the  evasive  nature  of  his  reply.  Common-sense 
suggests  to  him  a plain  direct  question,  not  without  interest.  This 
question,  plain  as  it  is,  goes  to  the  bottom  of  his  system.  He 
evades  it  by  answering,  that  Philosophy  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  interests  of  men.  Very  true  ; his  system  has  nothing  to  do 
with  them.  But  the  question  put  was  not,  “ Has  Philosophy  to 
concern  itself  with  the  interests  of  mankind  ?”  The  question  put 
was,  “ If,  as  you  say,  Being  and  Von-Being  are  the  same,  is  it  the 
same  thing  to  have  a house  and  not  to  have  it  ?”  Hegel  might 
have  given  a better  answer  even  upon  his  own  principles. 

To  return,  however.  The  first  proposition  has  given  us  the  two 
contraries  ; there  must  be  an  identity — a relation — to  give  them 
positive  reality.  As  pure  Being,  and  as  pure  Non-Being,  they  have 
no  reality ; they  are  mere  potentialities.  Unite  them,  and  you 
have  the  Becoming  ( Werden)^  and  that  is  reality.  Analyze  this 
idea  of  Becoming,  and  you  will  find  that  it  contains  precisely 
these  two  elements, — a Non-Being  from  which  it  is  evolving, 
and  a Being  which  is  evolved. 

Now  these  two  elements,  which  reciprocally  contradict  each 
other,  which  incessantly  tend  to  absorb  each  other,  are  only 
maintained  in  their  reality  by  means  of  the  relation  in  which  they 
are  to  each  other ; — that  is,  the  point  of  the  magnet  which  keeps 
the  poles  asunder,  and  by  keeping  them  asunder  prevents  their 
annihilating  each  other.  The  Becoming  is  the  first  concrete 
Thought  we  can  have,  the  first  conception ; Being  and  Non-Be- 
'ng  are  pure  abstractions. 

A question  naturally  suggests  itself  as  to  how  Being  and  Non- 
Being  pass  from  Abstractions  into  Realities.  The  only  answer 
Hegel  gives  us  is,  that  they  become  Realities  : but  this  is  answering 
us  with  the  very  question  itself.  We  want  to  know  how  they  be- 
come. In  themselves,  as  pure  Abstractions,  they  have  no  reality ; 
and  although  two  negatives  make  an  aflBrmative  in  language,  it 
is  not  so  evident  how  they  can  accomplish  this  in  fact.  The 
question  is  of  course  insoluble ; and  those  Hegelians  whom  we 
questioned  on  the  point,  unanimously  declared  it  to  be  one  of 


rso 


UKOSL* 


those  truths  (very  numerous  in  their  system)  which  can  be  com 
prehended,  but  not  proved. 

Let  us  grant  the  Becoming.  It  is  the  identity  of  Being  and 
Non-Being ; and  as  such  it  is  Being  as  determined,  conditioned. 
All  determination  {Besiimmung)  is  Negation.*  Therefore,  in 
order  that  Being  should  become,  it  must  suffer  first  a negation  ; 
the  Ansichseyn  must  also  be  Anderseyn,  and  the  relation  of  the 
two  is  total  reality,  the  Anundfursichseyn, 

Quality  is  the  first  negation : it  is  the  reality  of  a thing. 
That  which  constitutes  Quality  is  the  negation  which  is  the  con- 
dition of  its  Being.  Blue,  for  example,  is  blue  only  because  it  is 
the  negation  of  red,  green,  purple,  etc. ; a meadow  is  a meadow 
only  because  it  is  not  a vineyard,  a park,  a ploughed  field,  etc. 

Being,  having  suffered  a Negation,  is  determined  as  Quality, — 
it  is  Something,  and  no  longer  an  Abstraction.  But  this  some- 
thing is  limited  by  its  very  condition  ; and  this  limit,  this  nega- 
tion, is  external  to  it : hence  Something  implies  Some-other-thing. 
There  is  a This  and  a That.  Now  the  Something  and  the 
Some-other-thing,  the  This  and  the  That,  are  the  same  thing. 
This  is  a tree  ; That  is  a house.  If  I go  to  the  house,  it  will 
then  be  the  This,  and  the  tree  will  be  That.  Let  the  tree 
be  the  Something,  and  the  house  the  Some-other-thing,  and  the 
same  change  of  terms  may  take  place.  This  proves  that  the  two 
are  identical.  The  something  carries  its  opposite  (other-thing) 
within  itself ; it  is  constantly  becoming  the  other-thing.  Clearly 
showing  that  the  only  positive  reality  is  the  Relation  which 
always  subsists  throughout  the  changes  of  the  terms. 

This,  it  must  be  owned,  looks  like  the  insanity  of  Logic.  It  is 
not,  however,  unexampled  in  Hegel’s  works.  In  his  Phdnome- 
noloyie  des  Geistes,  he  tells  us  that  perception  gives  us  the  ideas 
of  Now,  Here,  This,  etc.  And  what  is  the  Now  ? At  noon  I say 
“ it  is  day.”  Twelve  hours  afterwards  I say,  “ it  is 
night.”  My  first  affirmation  is  therefore  false  as  to  the  second, 

* This,  as  many  other  ideas,  is  borr,^wed  from  Spinoza,  in  whose  system  it 
has  real  signiflcanco.  In  Hegel’s  it  is  a mere  play  upon  words. 


hegel’s  logic. 


Y31 


my  second  false  as  to  the  first : which  proves  that  the  Now  is  a 
general  idea ; and  as  such  a real  existence,  independent  of  aP 
particular  Nows. 

Our  readers  are  by  this  time  probably  quite  weary  of  this  friv- 
olous Logic  ; we  shall  spare  them  any  further  details.  If  they 
wish  further  to  learn  about  Quantities,  Identities,  Diversities,  etc., 
they  must  consult  the  original. 

Those  who  are  utter  strangers  to  German  speculation  will 
wonder,  perhaps,  how  it  is  possible  for  such  verbal  quibbles  to 
be  accepted  as  Philosophy.  But,  in  the  first  place.  Philosophy 
itself,  in  all  its  highest  speculations,  is  but  a more  or  less  inge- 
nious playing  upon  words.  From  Thales  to  Hegel,  verbal  distinc- 
tions have  always  formed  the  ground  of  Philosophy,  and  must 
ever  do  so  as  long  as  we  are  unable  to  penetrate  the  essence  of 
things.  In  the  second  place,  Hegel’s  Logic  is  a work  requiring 
prodigious  effort  of  thought  to  understand : so  diflScult  and  am- 
biguous is  the  language,  and  so  obscure  the  meaning.  Now, 
when  a man  has  once  made  this  effort,  and  succeeded,  he  is  very 
apt  to  overvalue  the  result  of  all  that  labor,  and  to  believe  what 
he  has  found,  to  be  a genuine  truth.  Thirdly,  Hegel  is  very 
consistent ; consistent  in  audacity,  in  absurdity.  If  the  student 
yields  assent  to  the  premises,  he  is  sure  to  be  dragged  irresistibly 
to  the  conclusions.  Fourthly,  the  reader  must  not  suppose  that 
the  absurdities  of  Hegel’s  system  are  so  apparent  in  his  works  as 
in  our  exposition.  We  have  exerted  ourselves  to  the  utmost  to 
preserve  the  real  significance  of  his  speculations  , but  we  have 
also  endeavored  to  bring  them  into  the  clear  light  of  day.  Any 
thing  except  a verbal  translation  would  reveal  some  aspects  of 
the  absurdity,  by  the  very  fact  of  bringing  it  out  of  the  obscurity 
with  which  the  German  terminology  veils  it.  The  mountain 
looming  through  a fog  turns  out  to  be  a miserable  hut  as  soon 
as  the  fog  is  scattered ; and  so  the  boasted  system  of  Absolute 
Idealism  turns  out  to  be  only  a play  upon  words,  as  soon  as  it 
is  dragged  from  out  the  misty  terminology  in  which  it  is  en- 
shrouded. 


732 


HEGEL. 


§ V.  Application  of  the  Method  to  Nature  and  History, 
Religion  and  Philosophy. 

Having  exhibited  the  various  evolutions  of  the  Idee  aa  pure 
Thought,  Hegel  undertakes  to  exhibit  its  objective  evolutions  in 
the  domain  of  Nature. 

In  the  former  attempt  he  had  only  to  deal  with  abst:  actions ; 
and  it  was  no  such  difficult  matter  to  exhibit  the  “ genesis  of 
ideas” — the  dependence  of  one  formula  upon  another.  Verbal 
distinctions  were  sufficient  there.  But  verbal  distinctions,  auda- 
cious logic,  and  obscure  terminology  avail  nothing  ‘n  attacking 
the  problems  loresented  to  us  by  Nature;  and  in  endeavoring  to 
give  scientific  solutions,  Nature  is  not  to  be  coerced.  Aware  of 
the  difficulties— seeing  instinctively  that  the  varieties  of  Nature 
could  not  be  reduced  to  the  same  simplicity  as  the  varieties  of 
the  Idee — as  Thought  had  been  reduced  in  his  Logic — Hegel  as- 
serted that  the  determinations  of  the  Idee  in  its  exteriority  could 
not  follow  the  same  march  as  the  determinations  of  the  Idee  as 
Thought.  Instead  of  generating  each  other  reciprocally,  as  in 
the  Logic,  these  determinations  in  Nature  have  no  other  connec- 
tion than  that  of  coexistence  ; sometimes  indeed  they  appear 
isolated. 

When  we  look  abroad  upon  Nature,  we  observe  an  endless 
variety  of  transformations.  At  first  these  seem  without  order  ; 
on  looking  deeper,  we  find  that  there  is  a regular  series  of  devel- 
opment from  the  lowest  to  the  highest.  These  transformations 
are  the  struggles  of  the  Idee  to  manifest  itself  objectively.  Nature 
is  a dumb  Intelligence  striving  to  articulate.  At  first  she  mumbles ; 
with  succeeding  eff'orts  she  articulates  ; at  last  she  speaks. 

Every  modification  which  the  Idee  undergoes  in  the  sphere  of 
pure  Thought  it  endeavors  to  express  in  the  sphere  of  Nature 
And  thus  an  object  is  elevated  in  the  scale  of  creation  in  so  fai 
as  it  resumes  within  itself  a greater  number  of  qualities  : inor- 
ganic matter  is  succeeded  by  organic,  and  amongst  organ'zed 


APPLICATION  OP  HEGEl’s  METHOD.  733 

beings  there  is  a graduated  scale  from  the  plant  up  to  man.  In 
man  the  Idee  assumes  its  highest  grade.  In  Eeason  it  becomes 
conscious  of  itself,  and  thereby  attains  real  and  positive  existence 
— the  highest  point  of  development.  Nature  is  divine  in  prin- 
ciple (an  sick),  but  it  is  a mistake  to  suppose  it  divine  as  it  exists. 
By  the  Pantheists  Nature  is  made  one  with  God,  and  God  one 
with  Nature.  In  truth.  Nature  is  but  the  exteriority  (Aeusser- 
iickkeit)  of  God  ; it  is  the  passage  of  the  Idee  through  imperfec- 
tion (Ahfall  der  Idee).  Observe  moreover  that  Nature  is  not 
only  external  in  relation  to  the  Idee,  and  to  the  subjective  exist- 
ence of  the  Idee,  namely  Intelligence  ; but  exteriority  constitutes 
the  condition  in  virtue  of  which  Nature  is  Nature  (sondern  die 
AeusserlickJceit  macht  die  Bestimmung  aus,  in  welcker  sie  als 
Natur  ist). 

The  Philosophy  of  Nature  is  divided  into  three  sections — 
Mechanics,  Physics,  and  Physiology.  Into  the  details,  we  are 
happy  to  say,  our  plan  forbids  us  to  enter ; or  we  should  have 
many  striking  illustrations  of  the  futility  of  that  Method  which 
pretends  to  construct  the  scheme  of  the  world  d priori.  Experi- 
mental philosophers — Newton  especially — are  treated  with  con- 
sistent contempt.  Hegel  is  not  a timid  speculator  ; he  recoils 
from  no  consequence ; he  bows  down  to  no  name  ; he  is  im- 
pressed by  no  fact,  however  great.  That  Newton’s  speculations 
should  be  no  better  than  drivel,  and  his  “ discoveries”  no  better 
than  illusions,  were  natural  consequences  of  Hegel’s  fundamental 
theories.  That  all  Europe  had  been  steadily  persevering  in  ap- 
plying Newton’s  principles,  and  extending  his  discoveries, — that 
Science  was  making  gigantic  strides,  hourly  improving  man  s 
mastery  over  Nature,  hourly  improving  the  condition  of  man- 
kind,— this  fact,  however  great  it  might  appear  to  others,  when 
coupled  with  the  other  fact,  that  upon  the  ontological  Method 
no  discoveries  had  yet  been  made,  and  none  seemed  likely  to  be 
made — appeared  to  Hegel  as  unworthy  of  a philosopher’s  notice. 
The  interests  of  mankind  were  vulgar  considerations,  for  which 
49 


734 


HEGEL. 


there  would  always  be  abundant  vulgar  minds.  The  jAilosophei 
had  other  objects. 

The  third  and  last  part  of  Hegel’s  system  is  the  Philosophy  of 
Intelligence.  Therein  the  Idee  returns  from  Nature  to  itself,  and 
returns  through  a consciousness  of  itself. 

Subjectively  the  Idee  first  manifests  itself  as  a Soul ; it  then 
returns  upon  itself,  and  becomes  Consciousness ; and  finally  ren- 
ders itself  an  Object  to  itself,  and  then  it  is  Reason. 

Objectively  the  Idee  manifests  itself  as  Will,  and  realizes  itself 
in  History  and  in  Law. 

The  Subjective  and  Objective  manifestations  being  thus 
marked  out,  we  have  now  to  see  in  what  manner  the  identity  of 
the  two  will  manifest  itself.  The  identity  of  the  Objective  and 
Subjective  is  the  Idee  as  Intelligence,  having  consciousness  of 
itself  in  individuals,  and  realizing  itself  as  Art,  as  Religion,  and 
as  Philosophy. 

The  “ Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  History,”*  edited  by  the 
late  accomplished  Professor  Gans,  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  books 
on  the  subject  we  ever  read.  The  following  ideas  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  give  an  indication  of  its  method. 

History  is  the  development  of  the  Idee  objectively — the  pro- 
cess by  which  it  attains  to  a consciousness  of  itself  by  explaining 
itself.f  The  condition  of  Intelligence  is  to  know  itself ; but  it 
can  know  itself  only  after  having  passed  through  the  three 
phases  of  the  method,  namely,  affirmation,  negation,  and  nega- 
tion of  negation,  as  the  return  to  consciousness  endowed  with 
reality.  It  is  owing  to  these  phases  that  the  human  race  is  per- 
fectible. 

States,  Nations,  and  Individuals  represent  the  determinate 
moments  of  this  development.  Each  of  these  moments  manifests 


* Werke,  vol.  ix. 

t History  is  a sort  of  Theodieea ; the  merit  of  originality,  however,  which 
Hegel  claims  {EinUitung,  p.  20),  is  due  to  Vieo,  from  whom  he  has  largely 
borrowed  ; Vico  expressly  calls  his  New  Science  a Civil  Theology  of  Divi/m 
Providence.  See  La  Science  Nouvelle,  livre  i.  ch.  iv. 


APPLICATION  OF  HEGEL ’s  METHOD.  T35 

rtself  in  the  constitution,  in  the  manners,  in  the  creeds,  in  the 
whole  social  state  of  any  one  nation.  For  this  nation  it  is  what 
we  call  the  spirit  of  the  age  : it  is  the  only  possible  truth,  and 
by  its  light  all  things  are  seen.  But  with  reference  to  the  abso- 
lute Idee  all  these  particular  manifestations  are  nothing  but 
moments  of  transition — instruments  by  which  the  transition  to 
another  higher  moment  is  prepared.  Great  men  are  the  incar- 
nations of  the  spirit  of  the  age. 

It  is  not  every  nation  that  constitutes  itself  into  a state : to  do 
that,  it  must  pass  from  a family  to  a horde,  from  a horde  to  a 
tribe,  and  from  a tribe  to  a state.  This  is  the  formal  realization 
of' the  Idee. 

But  the  Idee  must  have  a theatre  on  wBich  to  develop  itself. 
The  Earth  is  that  theatre  ; and  as  it  is  the  product  of  the  Idee 
(according  to  the  Naturphilosophie'),  we  have  the  curious  pheno- 
menon of  an  actor  playing  upon  a stage — that  stage  being  him- 
self! But  the  Earth,  as  the  geographical  basis  of  History,  has 
three  great  divisions  : — 1.  The  mountainous  regions.  2.  The 
plains  and  valleys.  3.  The  coasts  and  mouths  of  rivers.  The 
first  represents  the  primitive  condition  of  mankind  ; the  second 
the  more  advanced  condition,  when  society  begins  to  be  formed; 
the  third,  when,  by  means  of  river-communication,  the  activity 
of  the  human  race  is  allowed  free  development  in  all  directions, 
particularly  of  commerce.  This  is  another  of  the  ideas  of  Vico,* 
and  is  in  contradiction  to  all  history. 

The  great  moments  of  History  are  four.  1.  In  the  East  we 
have  the  predominance  of  substantiality;  the  Idee  does  not 
know  its  freedom.  The  rights  of  men  are  unknown  because  the 
East  knows  only  that  one  is  free.  This  is  the  childhood  of  the 
World.  2.  In  Greece  we  have  the  predominance  of  Individu- 
ality. The  Idee  knows  that  it  is  free,  but  only  under  certain 
forms,  that  is  to  say,  only  some  are  free.  Mind  is  still  mixed 
with  Matter,  and  finds  its  expression  therein ; this  expression  ia 


* La  Science  HimveUe,  livre  i.  ch.  ii.  § 97. 


T36 


HEGEL. 


Beauty.  This  is  the  youthhood  of  the  World.  3.  In  Rome  we 
have  opposition  between  the  Objective  and  Subjective : the  po- 
litical universality  and  individual  freedom  both  developed,  yet 
not  united.  This  is  the  Manhood  of  the  World.  4.  In  the  Teu- 
tonic Nations  we  have  the  unity  of  the  contradiction — the  Idee 
knowing  itself ; and  instead  of  supposing,  like  Greece  and  Rome, 
that  some  only  are  free,  it  knows  that  all  men  are  free.  This  is 
the  old-age  of  the  World  ; but  although  the  old-age  of  body  is 
weakness,  the  old-age  of  Mind  is  ripeness.  The  first  form  of 
government  which  we  see  in  History  is  Despotism ; the  second  is 
Democracy  and  Aristocracy  ; the  third  is  Monarchy.''^ 

On  reading  over  this  meagre  analysis,  the  ingenious  specula- 
tions of  the  original  will  scarcely  be  recognized.  Such  is  the 
art  with  which  Hegel  clothes  his  ideas  in  the  garb  of  Philosophy, 
that  though  aware  that  he  is  writing  fiction,  not  history,  and 
giving  us  perversions  of  notorious  facts  as  the  laws  of  historical 
development — telling  us  that  the  Spirit  of  the  World  manifests 
himself  under  such  and  such  phases,  when  it  is  apparent  to  all 
that,  granting  the  theory  of  this  World-Spirit’s  development,  the 
phases  were  not  such  as  Hegel  declares  them  to  have  been ; — al- 
though we  are  aware  of  all  this,  yet  is  the  book  so  ingenious 
and  amusing,  that  it  seems  almost  unfair  to  reduce  it  to  such  a 
caput  mortuum  as  our  analysis.  Nevertheless  the  principles  of 
his  philosophy  of  History  are  those  we  have  given  above.  The 
application  of  those  principles  to  the  explication  of  the  various 
events  of  History,  is  still  more  ingenious. 

Hegel’s  Philosophy  of  Religion  has  in  the  last  few  years  been 
the  subject  of  bitter  disputes.  The  schisms  of  the  young  Hege- 
lians— the  doctrines  of  Strauss,  Feuerbach,  Bruno,  Bauer,  and 
others — being  all  deduced,  or  pretended  to  be  deduced,  from 
Hegel’s  system,  much  angry  discussion  has  taken  place  as  to  the 
real  significance  of  that  system.  When  doctors  thus  disagree, 
we  shall  not  presume  to  decide.  We  will  leave  the  matter  to 


PMlosophie  der  Oeschichte,  p.  128. 


APPLICATION  OF  HEGEl’s  METHOD.  737 

tbeologiaus ; and  for  the  present  only  notice  Hegel’s  fundamental 
ideas. 

It  is  often  a matter  of  wonder  to  see  how  Hegel’s  Method  .is 
applied  to  all  subjects,  and  how  his  theory  of  life  can  he  brought 
to  explain  every  product  of  life.  This  is  doubtless  a great  logical 
ment ; and  it  inspires  disciples  with  bonndless  confidence.  Few, 
however,  we  suspect,  have  approached  the  subject  of  Eeligion 
without  some  misgivings  as  to  the  applicability  of  the  Method 
to  explain  it.  Probably  the  triumph  is  great  when  the  applica- 
bility is  shown  to  be  as  perfect  here  as  elsewhere.  Of  this  our 
readers  shall  judge. 

Hegel,  of  course,  accepts  the  Trinity ; his  whole  system  is 
Trinitarian.  God  the  Father  is  the  eternal  Idee  an  und  fur  sich : 
that  is  to  say,  the  Idee  as  an  unconditioned  Abstraction.  God  the 
Son,  engendered  by  the  Father,  is  the  Idee  as  Andersseyn  : that 
is  to  say,  as  a conditioned  Reality.  The  separation  has  taken 
place  which,  by  means  of  a negation^  gives  the  Abstraction  real 
existence.  God  the  Holy  Ghost  is  the  Identity  of  the  two ; the 
negation  of  the  negation  and  perfect  totality  of  existence.  He  is 
the  Consciousness  of  himself  as  Spirit ; this  is  the  condition  of 
his  existence. 

God  the  Father  was  before  the  World,  and  created  it.  That 
is  to  say,  he  existed  an  sich,  as  the  pure  Idee,  before  he  assumed 
any  reality.  He  created  the  World,  because  it  is  the  essence  of 
his  being  to  create  (es  gehmd  zu  seinem  Seyn,  Wesen,  Schopfer 
zu  seyn).  Did  he  not  create,  then  would  his  own  existence  be 
incomplete. 

The  vulgar  notion  of  theologians  is  that  God  created  the  world 
by  an  act ; but  Hegel  says  that  the  creation  is  not  an  act,  but  an 
eternal  moment — not  a thing  done,  but  a thing  perpetually  doing  ; 
God  did  not  create  the  world,  he  is  eternally  creating  it.  Attached 
also  to  this  vulgar  notion,  is  another  less  precisely  but  more 
commonly  entertained ; namely,  that  God,  having  created  the 
world  by  an  act  of  his  will,  lets  it  develop  itself  with  no  inter- 
ference of  his ; as  Goethe  somewhere  ridicules  it,  he  “ sits  aloft 


738 


HEGEL. 


seeing  the  world  go.”  This  was  not  the  doctrine  of  St.  Paul, 
whose  pregnant  words  are,  “ In  Him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being.”  We  live  in  God,  not  out  of  him,  not  simply  by  him. 
And  this  is  what  Hegel  means  when  he  denies  that  the  creation 
was  a single  act.  Creation  was,  and  is,  and  ever  will  be.  Crea- 
tion is  the  reality  of  God ; it  is  God  passing  into  activity,  but 
neither  suspended  nor  exhausted  in  the  act. 

This  is  all  we  can  here  give  of  his  Philosophy  of  Religion ; 
were  we  to  venture  further,  we  should  only  get  ourselves  entan- 
gled in  the  thorny  labyrinth  of  theological  problems.  Let  us 
pass,  therefore,  to  his  History  of  Philosophy,  which,  according 
to  him,  is  the  history  of  the  development  of  the  Idee  as  intelli- 
gence. This  development  of  thought  is  nothing  more  than  the 
various  transitions  which  constitute  the  moments  of  the  absolute 
Method.  All  these  moments  are  represented  in  history ; so  that 
the  History  of  Philosophy  is  the  reproduction  of  the  Logic  under 
the  forms  of  intelligence.  The  succession  of  these  moments 
gives  to  each  period  a particular  philosophy ; but  these  various 
philosophies  are,  in  truth,  only  parts  of  the  one  philosophy. 
This  looks  like  the  Eclecticism  of  Victor  Cousin ; and  indeed 
Cousin’s  system  is  but  an  awkward  imitation  of  Hegel ; but  the 
Frenchman  has  either  misunderstood,  or  has  modified,  the  views 
of  his  master. 

Historically  speaking,  there  have  been,  according  to  Hegel, 
but  two  philosophies — that  of  Greece  and  that  of  Germany.  The 
Greeks  conceived  Thought  under  the  form  of  the  Idee  ; the  mod- 
erns have  conceived  it  under  the  form  of  Spirit.  The  Greeks 
of  Alexandria  arrived  at  unity ; but  their  unity  was  only  ideal, 
it  existed  objectively  in  thought.  The  subjective  aspect  was 
wanting : the  totality  knew  itself  not  as  subjective  and  objective. 
This  is  the  triumph  of  modern  philosophy. 

The  moments  have  been  briefly  these : — 1.  With  Thales  and 
the  Eleatics,  the  Idee  was  conceived  as  pure  Being — the  One. 

2.  With  Plato  it  was  conceived  as  Universal,  Essence,  Thought. 

3.  With  Aristotle  as  Conception  [Begrijf).  4.  With  the  Stoics, 


APPLICATION  OF  HEGEl’s  METHOD. 


739 


Epicureans,  and  Skeptics,  as  subjective  Conception.  5.  With 
the  Alexandrians  as  the  totality  of  Thought.  6.  With  Descartes 
as  the  Self-Consciousness.  7.  With  Fichte  as  the  Absolute,  or 
Ego.  8.  With  Schelling  as  the  Identity  of  Subject  and  Object. 

We  close  here  our  exposition  of  Hegel’s  tenets;  an  exposition 
which  we  have  been  forced  to  give  more  in  his  own  words  than 
we  could  have  wished  ; but  the  plan  we  adopted  with  respect  to 
Kant  and  Fichte  would  not  have  been  so  easy  (we  doubt  if  it  be 
possible)  with  respect  to  Hegel,  whose  language  must  be  learned, 
for  the  majority  of  his  distinctions  are  only  verbal.  In  Kant 
and  Fichte  the  thoughts  were  to  be  grappled  with  ; in  Hegel  the 
form  is  every  thing. 

We  have  only  touched  upon  essential  points.  Those  desirous 
of  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  system,  are  referred  to 
the  admirable  edition  of  his  complete  works,  published  by  his  dis- 
ciples, in  twelve  volumes,  octavo.  If  this  voluminousness  be  some- 
what too  alarming,  we  can  recommend  the  abridgment  by  Franz 
and  Hillert  {^Hegel’s  Philosophie  in  wortlichen  Auszugen,  Berlin, 
1843),  where  the  whole  system  is  given  in  Hegel’s  own  words,  and 
only  his  illustrations  and  minute  details  are  omitted.  Michelet’s 
work  is  useful  mainly  for  its  bibliography.  He  indicates  the  vari- 
ous directions  taken  by  Hegel’s  discij  les.  Chalybaus  is  popular, 
but  touches  only  on  a few  points.  Barchou  de  Penhoen  evidently 
knows  Hegel  only  at  second-hand,  and  is  not  to  be  trusted.  Dr. 
Ott’s  work  is  ill  written,  but  is  very  useful  as  an  introduction  to 
the  study  of  the  works  themselves,  and  has  been  very  useful  to 
us  in  our  exposition.  No  work  of  Hegel’s  has  been  translated 
into  English  •*  and  only  his  ESsthetih  into  French,  and  that  is 
more  an  analysis,  we  believe,  than  a translation.  The  Philos- 
ophy of  Plistory  has  been  translated  into  Italian. 


* Since  this  was  written,  a part  of  the  Logic  has  appeared  under  this 
title : Eie  Subjective  Logic  of  Hegel.,  translated  by  H.  Sloman  and  J.  Wallon, 
1855.  To  the  list  of  works  mentioned  above  should  he  added  Wilm’s  ad- 
mirable Hist,  de  la  PUlos.  Allemande,  by  far  the  best  work  on  the  subject 
known  to  me. 


TENTH  EPOCH. 


PSYCHOLOGY  SEEKING  ITS  BASIS  IN  PHYSIOLOGY 


CHAPTER  I. 

CABANIS. 

While  Ontology  was  reasserting  its  claim  in  Germany,  with 
such  results  as  we  have  seen,  Philosophy  in  England  and  France 
relinquished  its  lofty  claims,  and  contented  itself  with  the  en- 
deavor to  construct  a Psychology.  The  writings  of  Reid,  Stew- 
art, Brown,  James  Mill,  and  their  disciples,  valuable  in  many 
respects,  are  all  deficient  in  Method,  all  without  a firm  basis.  The 
attempt  of  Hartley  and  Darwin  to  connect  Psychology  with 
Physiology,  we  have  seen  was  premature.  It  nevertheless  point- 
ed out  the  true  direction.  If  Psychology  is  to  be  studied  as  a 
Science,  it  must  be  studied  according  to  rigorously  scientific  prin- 
ciples ; if,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  to  be  studied  as  a branch  of 
Metaphysics,  then  indeed  the  Seotch  sehool,  and  every  other 
unscientific  school,  may  justly  complain  of  the  encroachment  of 
Physiology  on  their  domain. 

The  history  of  the  rise  of  psychological  Method  remains  to  be 
written.  It  began  with  Hobbes  and  Locke.  They  opposed  the 
reigning  doctrine  of  innate  ideas.  They  analyzed  Thought  as 
the  product  of  Experience.  Hobbes,  as  was  natural  in  the  first 
vehemence  of  the  swing  of  reaction  against  spiritualism,  recog- 
nizes nothing  in  the  mind  but  sensations  in  all  their  varieties ; 


CABANIS. 


Til 


the  mind,  he  said,  is  moved  by  external  motion,  that  is  all. 
Locke,  on  deeper  meditation,  saw  that  there  was  something  more 
than  this  ; he  saw,  dimly  it  is  true,  yet  never  overlooking  it  alto- 
gether, that  the  mind  co-operated.  Not  only  Sense,  but  Reflection 
on  the  materials  given  through  Sense,  furnished,  he  said,  the 
complex  thoughts  of  man.  Thus  he  proclaimed  Experience  the 
source  of  knowledge.  The  mind  of  the  child  was  like  a sheet  of 
blank  paper,  on  which  Experience  wrote  its  various  records.  In 
Locke,  we  see  the  initial  steps  of  the  Physiological  Method ; and 
as  he  was  himself  an  anatomist,  there  is  nothing  surprising  in 
his  having  been  led  by  his  study  of  man’s  structure  to  some  con- 
clusions respecting  man’s  mind.  He  directed  that  attention  to 
Sense  which  metaphysicians  had  been  in  the  habit  of  directing 
to  ideas  and  verbal  subtleties ; and  by  so  doing,  took  an  impor- 
tant step  towards  the  confrontation  of  speculation  with  fact ; and 
initiated  the  still  more  important  idea  of  a constant  relation  be- 
tween organ  and  function.  He  also  was  led  to  study  the  growth 
of  mind  ; and  hence  his  frequent  reference  to  savages  and  chil- 
dren, which  distresses  Victor  Cousin,  who  is  often  as  terrified  at 
a fact  as  at  a ghost. 

Great  as  Locke’s  services  were,  there  was  a radical  vice  in  his 
system  which  prevented  its  acceptance.  He  began  the  Physio- 
logical Method,  but  he  only  began  it.  The  Experience-hypoth- 
esis would  not  suffice  to  explain  all  phenomena  (at  least  not  as 
that  hypothesis  was  then  understood)  ; there  were  forms  of 
thought  neither  reducible  to  Sense  and  Reflection,  nor  to  indi- 
vidual Experience.  He  drew  illustrations  from  children  and 
savages-;  but  he  neither  did  this  systematically,  nor  did  he  ex- 
tend the  Comparative  Method  lo  animals.  The  prejudices  of  that 
ag’e  forbade  it.  The  ignorance  of  that  age  made  it  impossible. 
Comparative  Physiology  is  no  older  than  Goethe,  and  Compara- 
tive Psychology  is  only  now  glimmering  in  the  minds  of  men  as 
a possibility.  If  men  formerly  thought  they  could  understand 
man’s  body  by  dissecting  it,  and  did  not  need  the  light  thrown 
thereon  by  the  dissection  of  animals ; they  were  still  less  likely 


742 


CABANIS. 


to  seek  psychical  illustrations  in  animals,  denying,  as  they  did, 
that  animals  had  minds. 

The  school  of  Locke,  therefore,  although  regarding  Mind  as  a 
property  of  Matter,  consequently  directing  attention  to  the  hu- 
man organism,  trying  to  understand  the  mechanism  of  sensation, 
and  thus  dealing  with  tangible  realities  instead  of  with  impalpa- 
ble and  ever-shifting  entities,  was  really  incompetent  to  solve  the 
problems  it  had  set  itself,  because  its  Method  was  imperfect,  and 
its  knowledge  incomplete.  The  good  effect  of  its  labors  was  pos- 
itive ; the  evil,  negative.  Following  out  this  positive  tendency, 
we  see  Hartley  and  Darwin  advancing  still  nearer  to  a true 
Method  ; — by  a bold  hypothesis,  making  the  phenomena  depen- 
dent on  vibrations  in  the  nerves ; thus  leading  to  a still  more 
precise  and  definite  consideration  of  the  organism. 

These  were,  however,  tentatives  guided  by  no  distinct  concep- 
tion of  the  necessary  relation  between  organ  and  function  ; and 
the  Physiological  Method,  truly  so  called,  must  be  first  sought  in 
Cabanis. 

Pierre  Jean  Georges  Cabanis  was  born  5th  of  June,  lYSY,  at 
Conac,  neai'  Brives.  He  became  a physician,  and  established 
himself  at  Auteuil,  where,  in  the  house  of  Madame  Helvetius,  he 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  Turgot,  D’Holbach,  Franklin, 
Condillac,  Diderot,  and  D’Alembert.  To  these  let  us  add  Con- 
dorcet  and  Mirabeau,  both  of  whom  he  attended  in  their  last 
hours.  He  died  on  the  6th  of  May,  1808.  He  wrote  several 
works,  but  one  only  has  survived  in  the  memories  of  philosophic 
readers : Rajjports  du  Physique  et  du  Moral  de  V Homme* 

A disciple  of  Condillac,  he  nevertheless  saw,  more  distinctly 
than  any  man  before  him,  one  radical  vice  of  Condillac’s  system, 
namely,  the  limitation  of  mental  phenomena  to  sensations,  an^l 


This  work  originally  appeared  as  a senes  of  Memoires  read  before  the 
Institute  (1798-99).  It  was  published  as  a separate  book  in  1802,  under  the 
title  Traite  du,  Physique  et  du  Moral  de  V Homme  ; which  title  is  also  borne  by 
the  second  edition  of  1805.  Not  until  1815,  and  after  the  death  of  Cabanis, 
was  the  word  Rapports  substituted  for  Traite. 


CABANIS. 


743 


the  non-recognition  of  connate  instincts.  If  sensation  were  the 
admitted  source  of  all  mental  phenomena  (and  Cabanis  rightly 
extended  these  phenomena  beyond  “ ideas”),  it  became  the  duty 
of  philosophers  to  examine  the  nature  of  sensation  itself.  “ No 
one,”  he  says,  “ had  clearly  explained  in  what  the  act  of  sensibil- 
ity consists.  Does  it  always  presuppose  consciousness  and  dis- 
tinct perception  ? and  must  we  refer  to  some  other  property  of 
the  living  body  all  those  unperceived  impressions  and  movements 
in  which  volition  has  no  part?”  To  put  this  question  was  to  in- 
augurate a new  study.  It  became  necessary  to  examine  whether 
all  mental  phenomena  were  not  reducible  to  the  fundamental 
laws  of  sensibility.  “ All  the  while  that  the  Intellect  is  judging 
and  the  Will  is  desiring  or  rejecting,  many  other  functions  are 
going  on,  all  more  or  less  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  life. 
Have  these  diverse  operations  any  influence,  the  one  on  the 
other?  And  is  it  possible  from  the  consideration  of  different 
jrhysical  and  moral  states,  which  are  observed  simultaneously,  to 
seize  the  relations  which  connect  the  most  striking  j^henomena, 
with  such  precision  as  to  be  certain  that  in  the  other  less  obvi- 
ous cases,  if  the  connection  is  less  easily  detected,  it  is  so  simply 
because  the  indications  are  too  fugitive  ?” 

This  conception  of. a possible  Psychology  is  in  itself  enough  to 
mark  forever  the  place  of  Cabanis  in  the  History  of  Philosophy. 
It  establishes  Psychology  as  one  branch  of  the  great  science  of 
Life.  It  connects  the  operations  of  intelligence  and  volition  with 
the  origin  of  all  vital  movements.  It  makes  Life  and  Mind  cor- 
relatives. This  was  a revival  of  the  great  truth  clearly  recog- 
nized by  Aristotle,  from  whom  it  descended  to  the  Schoolmen. 
“ Impossibile  est,”  says  Aquinas,  very  emphatically,  “ in  uno 
homine  esse  plures  animas  per  essentiam  differentes,  sed  una  tan- 
tum  est  anima  intellectiva,  quse  vegetativse  et  sensitivse  et  intel- 
lectivse,  oflSciis  fungitur.”  The  division  of  Life  and  Mind  as 
two  distinct  entities  was  introduced  by  the  Italians  of  the  Renais- 
sance, adopted  by  Bacon,  and  once  more  rejected  by  Stahl,  who 
returned  to  the  Aristotelian  conception.  With  the  fall  of  Stahl’s 


74:4: 


CABANIS. 


doctrine,  the  separation  of  Mind  from  Life  again  became  the 
dictum  of  the  schools,  until  Cabanis  ; no  one  since  Cabanis 
seems  to  have  been  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  unity  of  the 
two  till  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  presented  it  as  the  basis  of  psycho- 
logical induction,*  The  consequences  were  immediate  : if  Mind 
was  to  be  studied  as  one  aspect  of  Life,  it  could  only  be  efficient- 
ly studied  on  that  inductive  and  experimental  Method  which  had 
reached  the  certain  truths  of  positive  science  : “ Les  principes 
foudamentaux  seraient  egalement  solides ; elles  se  formeraient 
egalement  par  I’etude  severe  et  par  la  composition  des  faits ; 
elles  s’etendraient  par  les  m^mes  methodes  de  raisonuement.” 
Cabanis  warns  his  readers  that  they  will  find  nothing  of  what  is 
called  Metaphysics  in  his  book;  they  will  only  find  physiological 
researches,  mais  dir'igees  vers  V etude  particuliere  d’un  ordre  de 
fonctions. 

In  the  purely  physiological  direction,  indeed,  Cabanis  had 
many  predecessors,  from  Willis  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  to  Prochaska,  who  preceded  Cabanis  by  one  year  only.f 
The  nervous  system  had  of  course  been  studied  by  physiologists, 
and  this  study  led  them  to  psychological  theories ; but  although 
we  may  find  elsewhere,  especially  in  Unzer  and  Prochaska, 
sounder  views  of  the  physiology  of  the  nervous  system,  we  find 
nowhere  so  clear  and  large  a conception  of  the  physiological 
psychology. 

“ Subject  to  the  action  of  external  bodies,”  says  Cabanis,  “ man 
finds  in  the  impressions  these  bodies  make  on  his  organs  at  once 
his  knowledge  and  the  causes  of  his  continued  existence  ; for  to 
live  is  to  feel ; and  in  that  admirable  chain  of  phenomena  which 
constitute  his  existence,  every  want  depends  on  the  development 


* Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology^  1855. 

t Lehrs'dtze  aus  der  Physiologic  des  Menschen,  1797.  Curiously  enough  the 
second  and  third  editions  of  this  work  were  exactly  contemporaneous  with 
the  second  and  third  editions  of  Cabanis,  1802  and  1805  (counting  the  publi- 
cation in  the  Memoira  de  I'Institut  as  one  edition).  It  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  Cabanis  knew  of  Froehaska’s  existence  ; nor  is  there  more  than  a gen- 
eral resemblance  in  their  physiological  conclusions. 


CABANIS. 


U5 


of  some  faculty  ; every  faculty  by  its  very  development  satisfies 
some  want,  and  the  faculties  grow  by  exercise  as  the  wants  ex- 
tend with  the  facility  of  satisfying  them.  By  the  continual  action 
of  external  bodies  on  the  senses  of  man,  results  the  most  remark- 
able part  of  his  existence.  But  is  it  true  that  the  nervous  cen- 
tres only  receive  and  combine  the  impressions  which  reach  them 
from  these  bodies  ? Is  it  true  that  no  image  or  idea  is  formed 
in  the  brain,  and  that  no  determination  of  the  sensitive  organ 
takes  place,  other  than  by  virtue  of  these  same  impressions  on 
the  senses  strictly  so  called  ?”* 

This  question  cuts  away  the  very  root  of  Condillac’s  system. 
Cabanis  had  no  difficulty  in  showing  that  Condillac’s  limitation  of 
our  mental  phenomena  to  the  action  of  the  special  senses,  was  a 
contradiction  of  familiar  experience,  e.  g.  the  manifold  influence 
exercised  by  the  age,  sex,  temperament,  and  the  visceral  sensa- 
tions generally.  A survey  of  the  human  organism,  compared  with 
that  of  animals,  conducted  him  to  the  following  conclusions : 

“ The  faculty  of  feeling  and  of  spontaneous  movement,  forms 
the  character  of  animal  nature. 

“The  faculty  of  feeling  consists  in  the  property  possessed  by 
the  nervous  system  of  being  warned  by  the  impressions  produced 
on  its  different  parts,  and  notably  on  its  extremities.  These  im- 
pressions are  internal  or  external. 

“ External  impressions,  when  perception  is  distinct,  are  called 
sensations. 

“ Internal  impressions  are  very  often  vague  and  confused,  and 
the  animal  is  then  only  warned  by  their  effects,  and  does  not 
clearly  distinguish  their  connection  with  the  causes. 

“ The  former  result  from  the  application  of  external  objects  to 
the  organs  of  sense ; and  on  them  ideas  depend. 

“ The  latter  result  from  the  development  of  the  regular  func- 
tions, or  from  the  maladies  to  which  each  organ  is  subject ; and 
from  these  issue  those  determinations  which  bear  the  name  of 
instincts. 


* Deuxieme  Memoire,  § ii. 


74^ 


ca:banis. 


“Feeling  and  movement  are  linked  together.  Every  move- 
ment is  determined  by  an  impression,  and  the  nerves,  as  the  or- 
gans of  feeling,  animate  and  direct  the  motor  organs. 

“ In  feeling,  the  nervous  organ  reacts  on  itself.  In  movement 
it  reacts  on  other  parts,  to  which  it  communicates  the  contractile 
faculty,  the  simple  and  fecund  principle  of  all  animal  movement. 

“Finally,  the  vital  functions  can  exercise  themselves  by  the 
influence  of  some  nervous  ramifications,  isolated  from  the  sys- 
tem : the  instinctive  faculties  can  develop  themselves,  even  when 
the  brain  is  almost  wholly  destroyed,  and  when  it  seems  wholly 
inactive. 

“But  for  the  formation  of  thoughts  it  is  necessary  that  the 
brain  should  exist,  and  be  in  a healthy  condition  : it  is  the  spe- 
cial organ  of  thought.”* 

He  justly  repudiates  any  attempt  to  explain  sensibility,  which 
must  be  accepted  as  a general  property  of  organized  beings,  in 
the  same  way  that  attraction  is  accepted  as  a general  property  ot 
masses.  No  general  fact  admits  of  explanation.  It  can  only  be 
subordinated  to  some  other  fact,  and  be  explained  by  it,  on  the 
supposition  that  it  is  not  general.  Accepting  sensibility,  there- 
fore, as  an  ultimate  fact  in  the  organic  world,  he  detects  its  phe- 
nomena running  through  all  those  called  vital  and  all  those  called 
mental. 

“It  is  something,”  he  says,  “to  have  established  that  all  ideas 
and  all  moral  phenomena  are  the  results  of  impressions  received 
by  the  different  organs ; and  I think  a still  wider  kep  is  taken 
when  we  have  shown  that  these  impressions  have  appreciable 
differences,  and  that  we  can  distinguish  them  by  their  seat  and 
the  character  of  their  products,  although  they  all  act  and  react 
on  each  other,  on  account  of  the  rapid  and  continual  communi- 
cations with  the  sensitive  organ.”f  The  object  of  his  treatise  is 
to  examine  the  relations  existing  between  the  moral  and  physical 
conditions,  how  the  sensations  are  modified  by  modifications  in 


* Deuxilrm  Mimoire,  § viii. 


t Ibid.,  § v. 


CABANIS. 


747 


the  organs,  how  ideas,  Instincts,  passions  are  developed  and  mod 
ified  by  the  influences  of  age,  sex,  temperament,  maladies,  etc. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  a treatise  on  Psychology,  but  contributions 
towards  a science  of  Psychology,  and  as  such  may  still  be  read 
with  advantage,  although  the  science  of  the  present  day  rejects 
many  of  its  physiological  details.  He  foresaw  that  this  would  be 
so.  “Le  lecteur  s’apercevra  bientot  que  nous  entrons  ici  dans 
une  carriere  toute  nouvelle.  Je  n’ai  pas  la  pretention  de  I’avoir 
parcouru  jusqu’au  bout;  mais  des  hommes  plus  habiles  et  plus 
heureux  acheveront  ce  que  trop.souvent  je  n’ai  pu  que  tenter.” 

As  a specimen  of  inductive  Psychology,  we  must  not  pass  over 
in  silence  his  experimental  proof  of  instinct  being  developed  by 
certain  organic  conditions.  He  takes  one  of  the  most  marvellous 
of  instincts,  that  of  maternal  love,  and  having  analyzed  its  phys- 
iological conditions,  he  says  “ In  my  province,  and  some  of  the 
neighboring  provinces,  when  there  is  a deficiency  of  sitting  Hens, 
a singular  practice  is  customary.  We  take  a capon,  pluck  OS’ 
the  feathers  from  the  abdomen,  rub  it  with  nettles  and  vinegar, 
and  in  this  state  of  local  irritation  place  the  capon  on  the  eggs. 
At  first  he  remains  there  to  soothe  the  pain ; soon  there  is  estab- 
lished within  him  a series  of  unaccustomed  but  agreeable  im- 
pressions, which  attach  him  to  these  eggs  during  the  whole 
period  of  incubation  ; and  the  effect  is  to  produce  in  him  a sort 
of  factitious  maternal  love,  which  endures,  like  that  of  the  hen, 
as  long  as  the  chickens  have  need  of  aid  and  protection.  The 
cock  is  not  thus  to  be  modified ; he  has  an  instinct  which 
carries  him  elsewhere.” 

The  novelty  of  the  conception  which  Cabanis  put  forth,  and 
the  interest  attached  to  many  of  his  illustrations,  made  his  work 
very  popular;  but  its  influence  was  only  indirect.  The  igno- 
rance which  almost  all  psychologists  continued  to  display,  not 
only  of  Physiology,  but  of  the  necessity  of  a physiological 
Method,  together  with  the  alarm  excited  by  the  accusation  of 
“ materialism,”  aided  as  it  was  by  the  reaction,  mainly  political, 
but  soon  extending  itself  to  philosophical  questions,  which  con- 


748 


CABANIS. 


demned  tlie  labors  of  the  eighteenth  century,  left  Cabanis  with 
few  adherents  and  no  continuers.  In  elaborate  works  the  brain 
was  still  designated  as  the  “ organ  of  the  mind,”  but  the  mind 
was  passionately  declared  not  to  be  the  function  of  the  brain ; 
the  profouuder  views  of  Cabanis,  which  regarded  Mind  as  one 
aspect  of  Life,  were  replaced  by  the  old  metaphysical  concep- 
tions of  le  Moi — the  Ego — the  immaterial  Entity  playing  upon 
the  brain  as  a musician  plays  upon  an  instrument.'^  Instinct 
was  no  longer  regarded  as  determined  by  the  organism,  chang- 
ing with  its  changes,  rendered  abortive  by  mutilations,  and  ren- 
dered active  by  stimulation  ; but  as  a “ mysterious  principle  im- 
planted” in  the  organism ; a “ something”  which,  although  es- 
sentially mysterious  and  unknowable,  appeared  to  be  perfectly 
well  known  to  the  metaphysicians. 

While  the  reaction  was  strong  against  Cabanis  and  against 
the  whole  eighteenth-century  Philosophy,  there  arose  another 
doctrine,  which,  taking  Physiology  as  its  avowed  basis,  succeeded, 
in  spite  of  vehement  opposition,  in  establishing  itself  perma- 
nently among  the  intellectual  tendencies  of  the  age ; and  that 
doctrine  may  now  be  said  to  be  the  only  psychological  one  which 
counts  any  considerable  mass  of  adherents.  I allude  to  Phre- 
nology. 

*■  One  living  writer,  of  authority,  has  gravely  declared  that  mental  fa 
tigue  is  the  consciousness  which  the  mind  has  of  the  brain's  weariness] 
In  our  confessed  inatdlity  to  understand  what  matter  is,  why  will  men 
persist  in  dogmatizing  on  what  it  is  not?  We  know  neither  matter  no' 
spirit,  we  only  know  phenomena. 


CHAPTER  n. 


PHEEKOLOGY. 

§ I.  Life  of  Gall. 

Francis  Joseph  Gall  was  born  at  Tiefenbrunn,  in  Suabia,  on 
ibe  9th  of  March,  lYSY.  In  the  preface  to  his  great  work, 
Anatomie  et  Physiologie  du  Sj/stime  Nerveux^  1810,  he  narrates 
now  as  a boy  he  was  struck  with  the  differences  of  character  and 
talents  displayed  by  members  of  the  same  family,  and  how  he 
observed  certain  external  peculiarities  of  the  head  to  correspond 
with  these  difl’erences.  Finding  no  clue  given  in  the  works  of 
metaphysicians,  he  resumed  his  observations  of  nature.  The 
physician  of  a lunatic  asylum  at  Vienna  allowed  him  frequent 
occasions  of  noticing  the  coincidence  of  peculiar  monomaniacs 
with  peculiar  configurations  of  the  skull.  The  prisons  and 
courts  of  justice  furnished  him  with  abundant  material.  When- 
ever he  heard  of  a man  remarkable  either  for  good  or  evil, 
he  made  his  head  a study.  He  extended  his  observation  to  ani- 
mals ; and  finally  sought  confirmation  in  anatomy.  The  exterior 
of  the  skull  he  found,  as  a general  rule,  to  correspond  with  the 
form  of  the  brain. 

After  twenty  years  of  observation,  dissection,  theorizing,  and 
arguing,  he  delivered  his  first  course  of  lectures  in  Vienna.  This 
was  in  lYOG.  The  novelty  of  his  views  excited  a great  sensation ; 
one  party  fanatically  opposing  them,  another  almost  as  fanatically 
espousing  them.  Ridicule  was  not  sparing.  The  new  system 
lent  itself  to  ridicule,  and  angry  opponents  were  anxious,  as  oppo- 
nents usually  are,  to  show  that  what  made  them  angry  was  utterly 
farcical.  In  1800  Gall  gained  his  best  disciple,  Spurzheim. 

50 


750 


PHRENOLOGY. 


Hitherto  Gall  had  been  aided  by  a young  anatomist  named 
Niklas,  to  whom  he  taught  the  new  method  of  dissecting  the 
brain  now  Spurzheim’s  mastery  of  anatomical  manipulation, 
combined  with  his  power  of  generalization  and  of  popular  expo- 
sition, came  as  welcome  aids  in  the  gigantic  task  of  establishing 
the  new  doctrine  on  a scientific  basis. 

In  1802,  M.  Charles  Villers,  the  translator  of  Kant,  published 
his  Lettre  a Georges  Cuvier  sur  une  Nouvelle  Theorie  dii  Cerveau 
gar  le  Docteur  Gall.  I have  not  been  able  to  procure  this  Let- 
ter, but  it  is  in  many  points  interesting  to  the  historian  of  Phre- 
nology, because  it  not  only  expounds  the  doctrine  as  it  was  then 
conceived,  but  describes  the  localization  of  the  organs  then 
fixed  on  by  Gall.  A plate  represents  the  skull,  marked  by 
Gall  himself,  with  the  four-and-twenty  organs,  which  at  that 
period  comprised  the  “ original  faculties  ” of  the  mind.  Among 
these  twenty-four,  there  are  four  subsequently  discarded  alto- 
gether : Vital  Force — Susceptibility — Penetration  (independent 
of  that  which  characterizes  the  metaphysical  faculty) — and  Gen- 
erosity (independent  of  benevolence.)  Not  only  are  these  four  as- 
tonishing organs  marked  by  Gall  as  representing  original  facul- 
ties, but  the  twenty  organs  which  were  afterwards  retained  by 
him  are  differently  localized  ; so  that,  according  to  M.  Lelut 
from  whom  I borrow  these  details,  “of  those  twenty  organs 
there  is  scarcely  one  which  occupies  the  place  Gall  finally  as- 
signed to  it.”f 

Phrenologists  should  give  prominence  to  this  fact.  They  are 
bound  not  to  pass  it  over.  In  every  way  it  is  important  in  the 
history  of  the  doctrine.  It  may  perhaps  be  satisfactorily 
explained  ; but  until  it  be  so  explained,  it  must  tell  against  them  ; 
and  for  the  very  reason  which  they  incessantly  advance  as  their 
claim  to  consideration,  namely,  that  the  several  organs  were 


* Gall  pays  his  tribute  to  Niklas  in  the  first  edition  of  the  Anat.  et  Phys, 
du  Syateme  Nerveux,  i.  preface  xv.  In  the  second  edition  this  tribute  is  omit- 
ted ; not  very  creditably. 

t Lelut;  Byet  de  V Org analog ie  Phrenologique,  18i3,  p.  29. 


LIFE  OF  GALL. 


751 


established  by  observation,  not  by  any  theory.*  For,  if  the  doctrine 
had  been  established  by  a mingling  of  hypothesis  and  observa- 
tion, nothing  would  be  more  likely  than  that  the  first  sketch  of  it 
would  be  immature  in  conception,  and  uncertain  in  details; 
whereas,  if  the  doctrine  grew  up  slowly  from  a gradual  accumu- 
lation of  rigorously  verified  facts,  these  facts  would  remain  con- 
stant through  all  the  tentative  changes  of  doctrine.  Gall  had 
been  twenty  years  collecting  facts  of  correspondence  between  ex- 
ternal configuration  and  peculiarities  of  character.  He  had  con- 
trolled these  observations  by  repeated  verifications.  Prisons, 
lunatic  asylums,  busts,  portraits,  remarkable  men,  even  animals, 
had  furnished  him  with  facts.  Unless  these  facts  really  deserve 
all  the  credit  which  is  demanded  for  them,  Phrenology  has  the 
ground  cut  from  under  it ; and  if  we  are  to  give  them  our  confi- 
dence, upon  what  ground  can  we  relinquish  it  in  favor  of  subse- 
quent facts,  which  deny  all  that  has  been  said  before  ? If  Gall 
could  be  deceived  after  twenty  years  of  observation  of  facts 
which,  according  to  his  statement,  are  very  easily  observed,  be- 
cause very  obvious  in  their  characters,  why  may  he  not  have 
been  equally  deceived  in  subsequent  observations  ? If  one  col- 
lection of  facts  forced  him  to  assign  the  organ  of  poetry  to  a 
particular  spot  (on  the  skull  marked  by  him  for  M.  Villers),  how 
came  another  collection  of  facts  to  displav-v.  poetry,  and  substitute 
benevolence  on  that  spot  ? Are  the  manifestations  of  poetry  and 
benevolence  so  closely  allied  as  to  mislead  the  observer  ? 

Probably  Spurzheim’s  assistance  came  at  the  right  moment  to 
rectify  many  of  the  hazardous  psychological  statements,  and  to 
marshal  the  facts  in  better  order.  Together  they  made  a tour 
through  Germany  and  Switzerland,  diffusing  the  knowledge  of 
their  doctrine,  and  everywhere  collecting  fresh  facts.  On  the 
30th  of  October,  1806,  they  entered  Paris.  In  1808  they  pre- 

* “ On  voit  par  la  marohe  de  ees  reoherclies  que  le  premier  pas  fut  fait  par 
la  deconverte  de  quelques  organes  ; que  ce  n’est  que  graduellement  que  noua 
avons  fait  parler  les  faits  pour  en  deduire  les  principes  gener.aux,  et  que  o’est 
eubsequemment  et  a la  fin  que  nous  avons  appris  i connaitre  la  structure  da 
cerveau.” — Anat.  et  Phys.  i.  preface  xviii. 


752 


PHRENOLOGY. 


sented  to  the  Institute  their  Meraoire  on  the  Anatomy  and  Physi 
ology  of  the  Nervous  System  in  general^  a,nd  of  the  Brain  in 
particular  ; and  in  1810  appeared  the  first  volume  of  their  great 
work,  under  the  same  title,  which  work  was  remodelled  in  1823, 
and  published  in  six  volumes,  octavo,  under  the  title  of  Fonctions 
du  Cerveau. 

In  1813  Gall  and  Spurzheim  quarrelled  and  separated.  Spurz- 
heim  cjime  to  England,  Gall  remained  in  Paris,  where  he  died 
on  the  22d  of  August,  1828.  At  the  post-mortem  examination, 
his  skull  was  found  to  be  of  at  least  twice  the  usual  thickness, — a 
fact  which  has  been  the  source  of  abundant  witticisms,  for  the 
most  part  feeble.  A small  tumor  was  also  found  in  his  cerebel- 
lum ; “ a fact  of  some  interest,  from  that  being  the  portion  of  the 
brain  in  which  he  had  placed  the  organ  of  amativeness,  a pro- 
pensity which  had  always  been  very  strongly  marked  in  him.”* 
I know  not  in  what  sense  the  writer  just  quoted  thinks  the  fact 
so  remarkable.  Tumors  in  other  organs  are  not  usually  the  indi- 
cations of  increased  activity ; nor  are  we  accustomed  to  find 
great  poets  with  tumors  in  the  organ  of  “imagination;”  great 
artists  with  tumors  in  the  perceptive  region ; great  philanthro- 
pists with  tumors  on  the  frontal  arch  ; great  rebels  with  tumors 
behind  their  ears.f 

§ II.  Gall’s  Historical  Position. 

The  day  for  ridiculing  Gall  has  gone  by.  Every  impartial  com- 
petent thinker,  whether  accepting  or  rejecting  Phrenology,  is 
aware  of  the  immense  services  Gall  has  rendered  to  Physiology 
and  Psychology,  both  by  his  valuable  discoveries,  and  by  his  bold, 
if  questionable,  hypotheses.  He  revolutionized  Physiology  by 
his  method  of  dissecting  the  brain,  and  by  his  bold  assignment 

* The  Erujlish  Cyelopoedia,  vol.  iii.,  Art.  Gall. 

t To  anticipate  the  reply  that  the  existence  of  disease  in  the  or^an  would 
provoke  unusual  activity  of  the  organ,  it  is  only  necessary  to  state  thatG.all's 
“ propensity”  is  not  said  to  have  been  called  into  unusual  activity  shortly 
before  his  death,  but  to  have  always  been  very  active.  Had  there  been  a 
casual  connection  between  the  disease  and  the  activity,  increase  of  the  activ- 
ity would  have  followed  the  rapid  progress  of  the  disease. 


gall’s  historical  position. 


763 


of  definite  functions  to  definite  organs.  To  verify  or  refute  his 
hypotheses,  vast  researches  were  undertaken  ; the  nervous  system 
of  animals  was  explored  with  new  and  passionate  zeal ; and  now 
there  is  no  physiologist  who  openly  denies  that  mental  phenom- 
ena  are  directly  connected  with  nervous  structure ; while  even 
Metaphysicians  are  beginning  to  understand  the  Mechanism  of 
the  Senses,  and  the  general  laws  of  nervous  action.  The  time 
has  arrived  in  which  it  seems  almost  as  absurd  to  theorize  on 
mental  phenomena  in  defiance  of  physiological  laws,  as  it  would 
be  to  adopt  Stahl’s  advice,  and  consider  anatomical  and  chemical 
researches  futile  in  the  study  of  Medicine.  We  owe  this  mainly 
to  the  infiuence  of  Gall.  He  first  brought  into  requisite  promi- 
nence the  principle  of  the  necessary  relation  between  organ  and 
function.  Others  had  proclaimed  the  principle  incidentally ; he 
made  it  paramount  by  constant  illustration,  by  showing  it  in  de- 
tail, by  teaching  that  every  variation  in  the  organ  must  necessa- 
rily bring  about  a corresponding  variation  in  the  function.  He 
did  not  say  mind  was  the  product  of  organization : “ Nous  ne 
confondons  pas  les  conditions  avec  les  causes  efiicientes all  he 
asserted  was  the  correspondence  between  the  state  of  the  organ 
and  its  manifestations.*  This  was  at  once  to  call  the  attention 
of  Europe  to  the  marvellous  apparatus  of  organs,  which  had  pre- 
viously been  so  little  studied,  except  from  a purely  anatomical 
view,  that  no  one,  until  Sdmmerring  (who  was  Gall’s  contempo- 
rary), had  observed  the  relation  between  size  of  the  brain  and  in- 
tellectual power,  as  a tolerably  constant  fact  in  the  animal  king- 
dom. This  one  detail  is  sufficient  to  make  every  reader  suspect  the 
chaotic  condition  of  Physiological  Psychology  when  Gall  appeared. 

Nor  has  Gall’s  infiuence  been  less  remarkable  in  the  purely 
psychological  direction.  People  are  little  aware  how  that  influ- 

* So  also  Spurzheim  says : “ Both  Dr.  Gall  and  I have  always  declared  that 
we  merely  observe  the  effective  and  intellectual  manifestations,  and  the  or- 
ganic conditions  under  which  they  take  place ; and  that  in  using  the  word 
organs  we  only  mean  the  organic  parts  by  means  of  which  the  faculties  of  the 
mind  become  apparent,  but  not  that  these  constitute  the  mind.” — Phrenolo- 

m p- 16- 


754 


PHRENOLOGY. 


ence  is  diffused,  even  through  the  writings  of  the  opponents  of 
Phrenology,  and  has  percolated  down  to  the  most  ordinary  intel- 
ligences. “ Ni  les  vains  efforts  d’un  despotisme  energique,”  says 
Auguste  Comte,  “ secondes  par  la  honteuse  condescendance  de 
quelques  savans  fort  accredites,  ni  les  sarcasmes  ephemeres  de 
I’esprit  litteraire  et  metaphysique,  ni  m^me  la  frivole  irrationa- 
lite  de  la  plupart  des  essais  tentes  par  les  imitateurs  de  Gall, 
n’ont  pu  emp6cher  pendant  les  trente  dernieres  annees  I’accroisse- 
ment  rapide  et  continu,  dans  toutes  les  parties  du  monde  savant, 
du  nouveau  systeme  d’etudes  de  I’homme  intellectual  et  moral. 
A quels  autres  signes  voudrait-on  reconnaltre  le  succes  progres- 
sif  d’une  heureuse  revolution  philosophique  ?”* 

Gall  may  be  said  to  have  definitively  settled  the  dispute  be- 
tween the  partisans  of  innate  ideas  and  the  partisans  of  Sensa- 
tionalism, by  establishing  the  connate  tendencies,  both  affective 
and  intellectual,  which  belong  to  the  organic  structure  of  man. 
Two  psychological  facts,  familiar  from  all  time  to  the  ordinary 
understanding,  but  shrouded  from  all  time  in  the  perplexities  of 
philosophy,  were  by  Gall  made  the  basis  of  a doctrine.  The 
first  of  these  facts  is,  that  all  the  fundamental  tendencies  are  con- 
nate, and  can  no  more  be  created  by  precept  and  education  than 
they  can  be  abolished  by  denunciation  and  punishment.  The 
second  fact  is,  that  man’s  various  faculties  are  essentially  distinct 
and  independent,  although  intimately  connected  with  each  other. 
What  followed  ? That  the  Mind  consists  of  a plurality  of  func- 
tions, consequently  must  have  a plurality  of  organs,  became  the 
necessary  corollary  of  this  second  proposition,  as  soon  as  the  re- 
lation between  organ  and  function  was  steadily  conceived. 

These  two  propositions  have  entered  into  the  body  of  all  Euro- 
pean doctrines,  although  the  corollary  from  the  second  is  still 
vehemently  disputed  by  many.  No  man  of  any  intellectual 
eminence  would  now  repeat  Johnson’s  celebrated  assertion  of  the 
poetic  faculty  being  simply  intellectual  activity  in  a special  di 


* Cours  de  Philos.  Positive,  iii.  766. 


CKANIOSCOPY. 


765 


tection,  wliereby  Newton  migbt  have  written  Othello,  and  Shah  ■ 
speare  the  Principia,  had  either  of  these  great  noen  set  them- 
selves the  task.  “ Sir,  a man  can  walk  as  far  east  as  he  can  walk 
west,”  was  thought  a conclusive  illustration ; which  indeed  it 
was,  when  the  “ unity”  cf  the  faculties  found  no  contradiction  ; 
but  which  no  one  would  now  accept  as  more  than  a fallacious 
analogy. 

Another  conception  systematized  by  Gall  has  also  passed  into 
general  acceptance,  namely,  the  pre-eminence  of  the  affective 
faculties  over  the  intellectual ; and  the  subdivision  of  the  affec- 
tive faculties  into  propensities  and  sentiments,  and  of  the  intel- 
lectual faculties  into  perceptives  and  reflectives ; thus  marking 
the  progress  in  development  from  the  individual  to  the  social, 
from  the  sensuous  to  the  intellectual,  which  constitutes  the  great 
progress  of  civilization  in  the  triumph  of  sociality  over  animality. 

§ III.  Cranioscopt. 

Phrenology  has  two  distinct  aspects.  It  is  a doctrine  of  Psy- 
chology, and  it  is  an  Art  of  reading  character.  The  scientific 
doctrine  is  based  on  the  physiology  of  the  nervous  system,  to 
which  is  added  psychological  analysis  and  classification.  The 
Art  is  based  on  empirical  observation  of  coincidences  between 
certain  configurations  of  the  skull  and  certain  mental  phenomena. 
This  latter  is  truly  Cranioscopy,  and  is  no  more  entitled  to  the 
name  of  a science,  than  are  Physiognomy  or  Cheironomy ; a 
point  which  Gall’s  successors  have,  with  scarcely  an  exception, 
entirely  overlooked.  When  therefore  the  phrenologists  with 
much  emphasis  declare  their  system  to  be  a system  of  “ facts” 
and  “ observations,”  which  claim  our  confidence  because  they 
are  facts  and  not  “ mere  theories,”  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
we  should  accurately  discriminate  in  what  sense  these  said  facts 
are  to  be  understood ; because  according  to  that  sense  will  be 
the  kind  of  confidence  they  will  claim.  If,  for  instance,  they  are 
presented  purely  as  empirical  facts — the  observed  coincidences 
between  certain  cranial  appearances  and  corresponding  mental 


756 


PHRENOLOGY, 


manifestations — we  may  thankfully  accept  them  as  valuable 
materials.  Abundance  of  such  material  does  exist;  no  one 
acquainted,  even  superficially,  with  phrenological  writings  will 
deny  it.  But  without  desiring  to  lessen  the  value  of  these  facts 
by  rigorous  criticism  of  the  evidence  on  which  they  rest,  we  may, 
nay  more,  we  must,  if  our  inquiry  be  regulated  by  scientific  pre- 
cision, treat  them  as  we  treat  all  other  empirical  fixcts,  namely, 
hold  them  as  mere  sign-posts,  until  they  be  proved  universal^ 
and  until  they  be  bound  together  by  some  ascertained  law.  Now 
it  will  scarcely  be  denied  that  the  observed  correspondences  be- 
tween special  cranial  configuration  and  me\stal  peculiarities,  do, 
in  many  instances,  fail.  Large  heads  are  sometimes  observed  in 
connection  with  very  mediocre  abilities;  small  heads,  on  the 
contrary,  with  very  splendid  abilities;  particular  “organs”  do 
not  always  justify  their  prominence  by  the  presence  of  the  par- 
ticular “faculties”  which  they  are  said  to  indicate.  I wish 
rather  to  understate  than  overstate  the  difiiculty,  and  I will  not 
seek  to  gain  any  advantage  by  multiplying  exceptions : it  is 
enough  for  the  present  argument  if  any  exceptions  have  been 
observed ; because  any  exception  to  an  empirical  generalization 
is  fatal  to  it  as  an  empirical  generalization,  and  can  only  be  set 
aside  when  the  generalization  has  ceased  to  be  empirical,  and 
has  become  scientific.  Thus,  I am  aware  that  phrenologists  ex- 
nlain  each  exception  to  their  perfect  satisfaction.  But,  in 
explaining  it,  they  quit  the  sphere  of  empirical  observation  to 
enter  that  of  science ; and  thus  their  explanation  itself  has  only 
the  validity  which  can  be  given  it  by  theory.  To  make  my 
meaning  more  definite,  let  us  suppose  that  the  empirical  general- 
ization of  large  chests  being  the  cause  of  great  muscular  power, 
IS  under  discussion.  As  an  observed  fact— an  empirical  fact — 
the  correspondence  of  broad  chests  and  muscular  strength,  is  a 
valuable  addition  to  our  empirical  knowledge.  Taken  as  an  in- 
dication, no  one  disputes  the  fact ; but  taken  as  a cause,  and 
connected  with  a physiological  theory,  it  bears  quite  a different 
value.  The  physiologist  may  say  that  the  fact  proves  breadth 


CEANIOSCOPY. 


757 


Df  chest  to  admit  of  more  perfect  oxygenation  of  the  blood,  and 
thus  causes  greater  muscular  power.  Against  such  a theory  we 
bring  the  fact  that  no  absolute  and  constant  relation  between 
broad  chests  and  muscular  power  exists ; if  we  find  large  chests 
accompanying  strength,  we  also  find  small  chests  in  certain  lithe, 
wiry  frames  accompanying  even  greater  strength  ; the  empirical 
generalization  is  thus  destroyed,  the  explanation  is  shown  to  be 
imperfect,  and  the  ratio  of  muscular  power  i«  shown  to  depend 
on  some  other  condition  besides  the  oxygenation  of  the  blood. 

When  phrenologists  explain  away  the  exceptions  to  their  em- 
pirical facts,  they  are  on  the  field  of  pure  science,  and  their  ex- 
planations can  only  have  value  in  proportion  to  the  validity  of 
the  scientific  principles  invoked ; and  thus  the  Art  of  Cranios- 
copy  is  perpetually  forced  to  recur  to  that  very  Physiology  which 
the  successors  of  Gall  have  so  unwisely  neglected,  and  of  which 
(because  it  refuses  its  aid  ?)  they  often  speak  so  contemptuously. 
The  fact  of  a large  head  with  a small  mental  capacity,  or  of  a 
small  head  with  a great  mental  capacity,  is  explained  by  them 
as  resulting  from  the  difierence  in  the  “ temperaments”  of  the 
two.  But  have  they  discriminated  the  conditions  thus  vaguely 
indicated  by  the  word  temperament  ? Have  they  estimated  the 
proportions  in  which  the  temperaments  are  mingled  ? Have  they 
discovered  a means  of  valuation  by  which  the  exact  infiueuce  of 
each  temperament  can  be  estimated  ? They  have  not  even  made 
the  attempt. 

And  yet  that  such  a valuation  is  indispensable  to  the  scientific 
precision  of  their  results,  must  be  evident  to  every  one.  What, 
strictly  speaking,  is  this  “ temperament,”  which  acts  as  a disturb- 
ing force  in  the  calculation  ? I believe  that  science  will  one  day 
show  that  it  is  the  result  of  that  law  of  indeterminate  composi- 
tion which  distinguishes  living  tissue  from  all  other  substances. 
Inorganic  bodies  combine  according  to  the  law  of  determinate 
composition  : the  proportions  of  the  constituent  elements  are 
fixed,  definite,  invariable.  In  water  we  invariably  find  88’9  of 
oxygen,  and  ll'l  of  hydrogen,  in  every  100  parts;  never  more, 


758 


PHRENOLOGY. 


never  less ; let  the  water  be  dew,  rain,  snow,  or  artificially  pro- 
duced in  the  laborator}’^,  its  composition  is  always  determinate, 
even  to  tbe  fraction.  In  any  piece  of  flint  every  100  parts  will 
be  composed  of  48'2  of  silicon  and  51‘8  of  oxygen;  never  more, 
never  less.  But  tbis  is  not  tbe  case  with  organic  substances 
(those  at  least  which  we  ventured  to  distinguish  as  teleorganic 
substances),*  which  are  indeterminate  in  composition.  Elemen- 
tary analyses  do  not  yield  constant  results,  as  do  the  analyses  of 
inorganic  substances.  Nerve- tissue,  for  example,  contains  both 
phosphorus  and  water,  as  constituent  elements  ; but  the  quantity 
of  these  elements  varies  within  certain  limits ; some  nerve-tissues 
have  more  phosphorus ; some  more  water ; and  according  to 
these  variations  in  the  composition  will  be  the  variations  in  the 
nervous  force  evolved.  This  is  the  reason  why  brains  differ  so 
enormously  even  when  their  volumes  are  equal.  The  brain  dif- 
fers at  different  ages,  and  in  different  individuals.  Sometimes 
water  constitutes  three-fourths  of  the  whole  weight,  sometimes 
four-fifths,  and  sometimes  even  seven-eighths.  The  phosphorus 
varies  from  0'80  to  1'65,  and  1'80;  the  cerebral  fat  varies  from 
3'45  to  5'30,  and  even  6T0.  These  facts  will  help  to  explain 
many  of  the  striking  exceptions  to  phrenological  observations 
(such,  for  example,  as  the  manifest  superiority  of  some  small 
brains  over  some  large  brains),  and  are,  indeed,  included  within 
the  comprehensive  formula  constantly  advanced  by  phrenologists 
that  “size  is  a measure  of  power,  other  things  being  equal.”  In 
this  formula  there  is  a truth,  and  an  equivoque.  The  truth  may 
be  passed  over  by  us,  as  claiming  instantaneous  assent.  The 
equivoque  must  arrest  us.  Phrenologists  forget  that  here  “ the 
other  things”  never  are  equal ; and  consequently  their  dictum, 

* Matter  is  divided  into  Inorganic  and  Organic ; in  1853 1 proposed  a mod- 
iflcation  of  this  division  into — 1.  Anorganic;  2.  Merorganic;  and  8.  Tele- 
organic  : the  first  including  those  usually  styled  inorganic ; the  second  in- 
cluding those  substances  in  an  intermediate  state,  eithei  wanting  some 
addition  to  become  living,  or  having  lost  some  elements,  and  passed  from 
the  vital  state  into  that  of  product;  the  third  including  only  the  truly  vital 
substances. 


CKANIOSCOPY. 


759 


“ size  is  a measure  of  power,”  is  without  application.  Thera 
never  is  equality  in  the  things  compared,  because  two  brains  ex 
actly  similar  in  size,  and  external  configuration,  will  nevertheless 
differ  in  elementary  composition.  The  difference  may  be  slight, 
but  however  slight,  it  materially  aflTects  the  result.  The  differ- 
ence of  elementary  composition  brings  with  it  a difference  in 
development ; and  by  development,  I do  not  mean  growth,  but 
differentiation*  Parallel  with  these  differences,  not  appreciable 
by  any  means  in  the  phrenologist’s  power,  there  are  psychologi- 
cal differences,  resulting  from  the  effect  of  education.  So  that 
to  say  “ size  is  the  measure  of  power,”  is  as  vague  as  to  say  “ age 
is  the  measure  of  wisdom  because,  although  it  is  true  that  size 
is  an  index  of  power,  and,  other  things  being  equal,  the  greater 
the  brain  the  greater  the  mental  power,  it  is  equally  true,  that 
age  and  experience  in  minds  of  equal  capacity  will  produce  pro- 
portionate wisdom  : unfortunately  we  cannot  get  minds  of  equal 
capacity  placed  under  the  same  conditions  ; and  thus  it  happens 
that  we  find  some  men  with  large  brains  inferior  to  others  with 
much  smaller  brains,  and  men  of  patriarchal  length  of  years  more 
unwise  than  their  nephews. 

And,  in  a less  degree,  this  is  true  of  size,  taken  as  the  measure 
of  power,  between  one  organ  and  another  in  the  same  brain. 
Failing  utterly  when  two  different  brains  are  compared,  the  indi- 
cation of  size  will  be  no  more  than  approximative  when  two 
parts  of  the  same  brain  are  compared ; although  in  this  case  the 
other  things  are  necessarily  more  nearly  equal ; it  is  the  same 
nerve-tissue,  the  same  temperament  we  are  dealing  with.  In  a 
, given  brain,  therefore,  we  may  reasonably  expect  to  find  that  any 
one  organ  which  is  larger  in  size  than  another,  will  be  more 
powerful  in  function.  But  although  this,  as  an  empirical  gener- 
alization, is  a valuable  indication,  it  is  by  no  means  certain,  be- 
cause there  may  be,  and  indeed  usually  is,  a difficulty  thrown  in 

* I have  explained,  at  some  length,  the  relation  of  growth  and  develop- 
ment in  an  article  on  Dwarfs  and  Giants,  in  Frazer's  Magazine  for  August 
and  September,  1856. 


760 


PHRENOLOGY. 


tlie  way  by  tlie  inappreciable  yet  potent  differences  of  developmenl 
wbicli  have  taken  place.  Differentiations  occur  in  two  direc- 
tions, in  elementary  composition  and  in  morphological  develop- 
ment. One  brain  may  have  more  phosphorus  than  another; 
and  in  the  same  brain  one  organ  may  be  vesicular  or  more  fibrous 
than  another.  Thus  it  by  no  means  follows  that  a man  with  re- 
flective organs  large  in  size,  shall  have  so  exercised  these  organs 
as  to  have  brought  their  development  into  proportional  advance; 
while  on  the  other  hand  his  smaller  imaginative  organs  may 
have  been  so  developed  by  culture  and  exercise,  as  to  have  placed 
them  on  a par  in  efficiency  with  the  reflectives.  Daily  expe- 
rience assures  us  that  such  is  the  case ; and  the  philosophic 
phrenologist  might  point  to  it  as  one  explanation  of  the  many 
exceptions  which  Cranioscopy  must  necessarily  encounter  in  its 
attempt  to  read  character  according  to  external  indications. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  an  examination  of  Phrenology  as  an 
Art,  or  as  a Science.  I content  myself,  therefore,  with  the  fore- 
going indication  of  what  I believe  to  be  the  true  position  of 
Cranioscopy,  and  some  of  the  difficulties  which  beset  it.  That 
the  collection  of  observed  correspondences  between  certain  con- 
figurations of  the  skull  and  certain  mental  characteristics,  is  a 
worthy  task,  and  one  which  must  materially  aid  the  science  of 
Psychology,  I do  not  think  would  be  denied  by  any  philosopher, 
if  it  were  undertaken  with  that  subsidiary  aim ; but  when  phrenol- 
ogists obtrude  their  “system”  on  the  notice  of  philosophers, 
declaring  it  to  be  a completed  science  of  Psychology,  and  a 
true  method  of  reading  character,  they  must  not  be  surprised  if 
contradiction  meet  them  on  all  sides,  and  if  this  contradiction 
often  speak  the  language  of  contempt:  since  daily  experience 
cannot  sanction  the  present  pretensions  of  the  Art,  because  the 
Art  is  found  to  be  constantly  at  fault;  nor  can  psychologists 
recognize  the  pretensions  of  the  Science. 


PHRENOLOGY  AS  A SCIENCE. 


T61 


§ IV.  Phrenology  as  a Science. 

To  defend  their  Art,  phrenologists  are  compelled  to  recur  tc 
their  Doctrine,  founded  on  the  physiology  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, and  on  a psychological  classification  of  the  faculties.  Indeed, 
while  on  the  one  hand  we  find  every  phrenologist  since  Gall, 
Spurzheim,  and  Vimont,  occupied  entirely  with  Cranioscopy,  and 
many  even  speaking  with  disdain  of  anatomists  and  physiolo- 
gists ; on  the  other  hand  we  find  them  anxious  to  bring  forward 
physiological  and  pathological  evidence,  whenever  that  evidence 
favors  their  views ; and  we  hear  them  confidently  assert  that 
Phrenology  is  the  only  true  Physiology  of  the  nervous  system. 
This  latter  assertion  I am  quite  willing  to  echo,  if  the  terms  be 
somewhat  modified,  and  the  phrase  run  thus : “ Phrenology  aspires 
to  be  the  true  Physiology  of  the  nervous  system ; when  that 
Physiology  is  complete.  Phrenology  will  be  complete.”  But  for 
the  present  we  find  Physiology  confessing  its  incompleteness — 
confessing  itself  in  its  infancy;  whereas  Phrenology  claims  to  be 
complete,  equipped,  full-statured  ! Rightly  considered,  that  very 
claim  is  a condemnation  of  Phrenolo'gy,  as  at  present  understood. 
The  pretension  of  being  a perfect  or  nearly  perfect  system,  surely 
implies  a profound  ignorancp  of  the  subject,  an  entire  misconcep- 
tion of  the  complexity  of  the  problem  it  pretends  to  have  solved. 
At  a time  when  Science  is  unable  to  solve  the  problem  of  three 
gravitating  bodies,  phrenologists  pretend  to  find  no  difficulty  in 
calculating  the  result  of  forces  so  complex  as  those  which  con- 
stitute character : at  a time  when  the  nervous  system  is  confessed, 
by  all  who  have  studied  it,  to  be  extremely  ill-understood,  the 
functions  of  that  system  are  supposed  to  be  established;  at  a 
time  when  Physiology  is  so  rapidly  advancing  that  every  decade 
renders  most  books  antiquated,  a Psychology  professedly  founded 
on  that  advancing  science  remains  immovable  ! 

Gall  was  on  the  right  path  when  he  entitled  his  first  great 
work  Anatomy  and  Physiology  of  the  Nervous  System.*  His 


“Quiconque,”  he  says,  “est  convaincu  que  la  structure  des  parties  du 


762 


PHRENOLOGY. 


successors  liave  quitted  that  path.  lu  spite  of  his  emphatic  dec- 
larations, when  he  was  engaged  in  his  exposition  of  the  anatomv 
and  phj^siology  of  the  nervous  system,* *  declarations  of  the  neces 
sity  there  was  always  to  make  the  study  of  organ  and  function 
go  hand  in  hand,  so  that  he  would  only  have  his  labors  I’egarded 
“ as  the  basis  of  an  essay  towards  a more  perfect  work  in  spite, 
we  say,  of  every  philosophical  consideration,  his  successors  have  > 
neglected  Physiology  for  Cranioscopy ; not  one  of  them  has 
made  or  attempted  to  make  any  discovery  or  extension  of  dis- 
covery in  the  direction  Gall  so  successfully  opened ; and  the 
result  of  this  neglect  has  been  twofold — first,  that  since  Gall  and 
Spurzheim,  Phrenology  has  not  taken  a single  step  ; second,  that 
all  the  eminent  physiologists  of  Europe  who  have  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  study  of  the  nervous  system,  unanimously  reject  a 
theory  which  does  not  keep  pace  with  the  advance  of  science. 
It  is  very  easy  for  phrenologists  to  disregard  the  unanimous 
opposition  of  physiologists,  and  to  place  this  opposition  to  the 
account  of  prejudice,  or  the  “ not  having  sufficiently  studied 
Phrenology but  an  impartial  on-looker  sees  clearly  enough 
that,  making  every  allowance  for  prejudice,  the  opposition  rests 
mainly  on  the  discrepancy  between  the  facts  stated  by  phrenol- 
ogists and  the  facts  which  Science  has  hitherto  registered.  Had 
phrenologists  kept  themselves  acquainted  with  what  was  grad- 
ually being  discovered  by  physiologists,  they  would  have  seen 
that  something  more  than  prejudice  must  be  at  work  when  all  , 
the  eminent  neurologists,  such  as  Serres,  Flourens,  Majendie, 
Leuret,  Longet,  Lelut,  Lafargue,  Bouillaud,  Baillarger,  Muller, 
Valentin,  and  comparative  anatomists  such  as  Owen,  declare 
against  Phrenology ; although  every  one  of  these  is  ready  to 
admit  the  importance  of  Gall’s  method  of  dissection,  ready  to 
incorporate  whatever  results  Gall  arrived  at,  which  can  be  in  any 

eerveau  a un  rapport  necessaire  imm^diat  avec  leurs  fonctions,  trouvera 
qu’il  est  naturel  de  r^unir  ces  deux  objects  I’un  a I’autre,  en  les  consid4raut 
et  en  les  traitant  comme  im  seul  et  mfime  corps  de  doctrine.” — An.  ei  Phys., 
pref.  XXV. 

* Compare  his  Anat.  et  Phys.  da  Syst.  Keroeux,  i.  95  and  271. 


PHRENOLOGY  AS  A SCIENCE. 


763 


way  confirmed.  I do  not  blame  phrenologists  for  having  ren- 
dered no  assistance  to  Physiology  by  their  own  labors ; but  I 
am  forced  to  point  out  the  historical  consequences  of  their  hav- 
ing neglected  to  follow  the  path  commenced  by  Gall,  and  devi- 
ated into  that  of  simple  Cranioscopy.  The  neglect  of  which 
they  complain,  is  entirely  owing  to  their  presenting  a rude  sketch 
as  a perfect  science,  and  to  their  keeping  behind  the  science  of 
their  day,  instead  of  on  a level  with  it.  Impatient  of  contradic- 
tion, they  shut  their  eyes  to  diflBculties ; unable  to  accommodate 
their  principles  to  the  principles  of  Physiology,  they  contempt- 
uously dismiss  objections  as  “ merely  theoretical,”  and  fall  back 
upon  their  “ well-established  facts.” 

Gall  undertook  a gigantic  task.  He  produced  a revolution, 
and  his  name  will  always  live  in  the  history  of  Science.  It  is 
idle  to  attempt  to  undervalue  his  work  by  citing  his  predecessors. 
Others  before  him  had  thought  of  localizing  the  different  facul- 
ties in  different  parts  of  the  brain.  He  and  Spurzheim  have 
mentioned  such  predecessors.*  These,  however,  are  very  vague, 
unfertile  conceptions ; they  in  no  way  lessen  Gall’s  originality. 
A nearer  approach  is  to  be  read  in  Prochaska,  whom  Gall  often 
mentions,  although  he  does  not,  I think,  mention  this  particular 
anticipation.  It  is  the  third  section  of  chapter  five,  and  is  enti- 
tled, “ Do  each  of  the  divisions  of  the  intellect  occupy  a sepa- 
rate portion  of  the  brain  ?”  and  it  concludes  thus : “ It  is  by  no 
means  improbable  that  each  division  of  the  intellect  has  its  allot- 
ted organ  in  the  brain,  so  that  there  is  one  for  the  perceptions, 
another  for  the  understanding,  probably  others  also  for  the  will 
End  imagination  and  memory,  which  act  wonderfully  in  concert 
and  mutually  excite  each  other  to  action.  The  organ  of  imagi- 
nation, however,  amongst  the  rest  will  be  far  apart  from  the 
organ  of  perceptions.”f  How  far  this  general  supposition  of  a 


*■  Fonclions  du  Cerveau,  ii.  350  sq.  Compare  also  Lelut:  R^et  de  VOi’ga-' 
%u)logia,  p.  21  sq.,  and  Prochaska,  p.  374  sq. 

+ Prochaska,  p.  447.  There  is  a remarkable  passage,  too  long  for  quotation 
nere,  m Willis’s  Cerebri  Anatome,  c.  x.  p.  125,  on  the  convolutions  as  indi 


76i 


PHRENOLOGY. 


“ probability”  is  from  Gall’s  specific  attempt  to  localize  the  or- 
gans, need  not  be  pointed  out.  The  attempt  was  far  from  being 
fully  successful : but,  as  a tentative,  it  was  truly  philosophical, 
and  produced  a revolution. 

Having  once  conceived  the  brain  to  be  an  apparatus  of  organs, 
not  a single  organ,  the  problem  was  to  analyze  this  apparatus 
into  its  constituent  organs,  and  to  assign  to  each  its  special  func- 
tion. In  this  difficult  problem  Gall,  by  the  necessities  of  his  po- 
sition as  a system-founder,  was  forced  to  proceed  on  a false 
method,  namely,  that  of  determining  the  separate  organs  accord- 
ing to  a purely  physiological  and  superficial  analysis,  instead  of 
subordinating  this  analysis  to  anatomical  verification.  It  is  this 
arbitrary  and  unscientific  proceeding  which  has  made  all  anato- 
mists reject  the  system.  What  would  he  have  said  to  a physi- 
ologist who,  knowing  that  the  liver  formed  bile  and  sugar,  should 
have  assigned  the  function  of  bile-formation  to  one  lobe,  and 
the  function  of  sugar-formation  to  another  lobe,  no  structural  dif 
ferences  having  been  observed  ? or  who  should  assign  to  the 
different  lobules  of  the  kidney  functions  as  different  as  are  as- 
signed to  the  different  convolutions  of  the  brain  ? It  is  perfectly 
true  that  from  inspection  of  an  organ  no  idea  of  its  function  can 
be  obtained ; and  this  truth  has  blinded  phrenologists  who  are 
not  physiologists  to  the  necessity  of  nevertheless  always  making 
anatomy  the  basis  of  every  physiological  analysis.  No  inspection  of 
the  alimentary  canal  could  disclose  to  us  that  its  function  was  that 
of  digestion.  Nevertheless  the  function  of  digestion,  except  in 
the  crude  conception  of  ordinary  men,  is  only  intelligible  after  a 
rigorous  analysis  of  the  several  processes,  buccal,  stomachal,  and 
intestinal ; for  the  intelligence  of  each  of  which,  we  must  assign 
to  each  gland  its  specific  secretion,  and  to  each  secretion  its  spe- 
cific action  : a physiologist  who  should  attempt  the  explanation 
of  digestion  on  any  other  mode  would  justly  be  slighted  by  every 

eating  intellectual  superiority.  I give  only  the  opening ; “ Plicae  sunt  con- 
volutiones  cerebri  longd  plures  ac  inajores  in  homine  sunt  qu4m  in  quovis  alio 
animali,  nempfi  propter  varies  etmultiplioes  facultatum  superiorum  actus.” 


PHRENOLOGY  AS  A SCIENCE. 


765 


good  biologist  in  Europe.  If  Phrenology  is  the  Physiology  of 
the  nervous  system,  it  mus!  give  up  Gall’s  approximative  method 
for  a method  more  rigorously  scientific ; and  as  Auguste  Comte 
justly  remarks,  phrenologists,  before  they  can  take  rank  among 
men  of  science,  must  “ reprendre,  par  une  serie  derecte  de  travaux 
anatomiques,  I’analyse  fondamentale  de  I’appareil  cerebral,  en 
faisant  provisoirement  abstraction  de  toute  idee  de  fonctions.”* 

One  of  the  fundamental  questions  which  must  be  answered  by 
this  anatomical  analysis,  is  that  which  no  phrenologist  condescends 
to  ask,  namely.  Are  the  convolutions  the  seat  of  intelligence  ? in 
other  words.  Is  the  gray  vesicular  matter  which  forms  the  surface 
of  the  brain,  the  sole  and  specific  seat  of  those  changes  on  which 
all  mental  phenomena  depend  ? This  is  a question  which  Crani- 
oscopy  may  ignore,  since  the  facts  on  which  Cranioscopy  is 
founded  are  little  if  at  all  affected  by  it.  To  Phrenology  the  ques- 
tion is  initial,  all-important;  because  if  the  “Physiology  of  the 
nervous  system”  should  turn  out  defective  in  its  basis,  the  whole 
scaffolding  will  have  to  be  erected  anew.  I put  the  question  in 
two  forms,  because  although  it  is  commonly  said  that  the  convo- 
lutions of  the  brain  form  the  oi’gans,  yet  as  many  animals  are  alto- 
gether without  convolutions,  the  vesicular  surface,  whether  convo- 
luted or  not,  must  be  understood  as  the  seat  of  mental  changes; 
the  convolutions  being  only  a mode  of  increasing  the  surface. 

As  the  space  at  my  disposal  is  inadequate  to  any  exhaustive 
discussion  of  this  important  question,  the  reader  will  be  satisfied 
with  a brief  indication  of  the  doubt  which  Physiology  forces  me 
to  express  respecting  the  convolutions  as  the  specific  seat  of  men- 
tal manifestations.  I cannot  reconcile  the  current  opinion  on 
that  subject  with  anatomical  and  zoological  facts.  I believe  that 
the  vesicular  matter  which  constitutes  the  convolutions,  is  only 
one  factor  in  the  sum ; it  would,  however,  lead  me  too  far  to 
enter  on  the  discussion,  which  might  be  objected  to  as  at  present 
only  hypothetical. 

* Coursde  Philosophie  Positive,  iii.  821.  Comte  is  much  more  favorable  to  Gall 
than  I am,  yet  see  his  remarks  on  the  multiplication  of  the  faculties,  p.  828  sq 
61 


766 


PHRENOLOGY. 


Quitting  all  hypothetical  considerations  for  the  less  questiona 
ble  e^^dence  of  facts,  I find  M.  Baillarger'^ — who  invented  a 
new  method  of  measuring  the  surfaces  of  brains,  by  dissecting 
out  all  the  white  substance  from  their  interior,  and  then  unfold- 
ing the  exterior,  and  taking  a cast  of  it — declaring  from  his  meas- 
urements that  it  is  far  from  true  that  in  general  the  intelligence 
of  difierent  animals  is  in  direct  proportion  to  their  respective 
extents  of  cerebral  surface.  If  their  absolute  extents  of  surface 
be  taken,  the  rule  is  manifestly  untrue  in  many  instances ; and  it 
is  not  more  true  if  the  extent  of  surface  in  proportion  to  the  vol- 
ume of  the  brain  be  regarded  ; for  the  human  brain  has  less 
superficial  extent  in  proportion  to  its  volume  than  that  of  many 
inferior  mammalia : its  volume  is  two  and  a half  times  as 
great  in  proportion  to  its  surface,  as  it  is  in  the  rabbit,  for 
example. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  researches  of  M.  Camille  Darestef  estab- 
lish beyond  dispute  that  the  number  and  depth  of  the  convolu- 
tions bear  no  direct  relation  to  the  development  of  intelligence  ; 
whereas  they  do  bear  a direct  relation  to  the  size  of  the  animal ; 
so  that,  given  the  size  of  the  animal  in  any  genus,  he  can  predict 
the  degree  of  convoluted  development ; or  given  the  convolutions, 
he  can  predict  the  size  : “ toutes  les  especes  a cerveau  lisse  ont 
une  petite  taille ; toutes  les  especes  a circonvolutions  nombreuses 
et  compliquees  sont,  au  contraire,  de  gran  detaille.”  Further,  I 
am  informed  by  Professor  Owen  that  the  grampus  has  convolu- 
tions deeper  and  more  complicated  than  those  of  man.  From  all 
which  facts  it  becomes  evident  that  the  phrenological  basis  is  so 
far  from  being  in  accordance  with  the  present  state  of  our  know- 
ledge of  the  nervous  system  as  to  require  complete  revision. 

Phrenology  has  another  important  point  to  determine,  namely, 
the  relation  of  the  size  of  the  brain  to  mental  power.  Is  the  size 
of  the  brain  to  be  taken  absolutely,  and  its  functional  activity  in 

* Gazette  Medicale,  19  April,  1845.  Paget : Report  on  the  Progress  of  Anat 
omy,  in  British  and  Foreign  Med.  Rev.  July,  1846. 

t Annates des  Sciences  Naturelles,  3'-  s4rie.  xvii.  30,  and  4c  sdrie,  i.  73. 


PHKENOLOGY  AS  A SCIENCE. 


767 


Llie  purely  mental  direction  to  be  measured  by  its  absolute  bulk  ? 
A galvanic  battery  of  fifty  plates  is  five  times  as  powerful  as  a bat- 
tery of  ten  plates ; a cord  of  twenty  threads  is  five  times  as  strong 
as  a cord  of  four  threads,  other  things  equal ; and,  in  like  manner, 
we  should  expect  that  a brain  of  fifty  ounces  would  be  twice  as 
powerful  as  one  of  twenty-five  ounces  (the  limits  are  really  greater 
than  these).  Nevertheless,  we  find  no  such  absolute  and  constant 
relation  between  size  and  mental  power  as  would  justify  the 
phrenological  position ; the  weight  of  the  human  brain  being 
about  three  pounds ; the  weight  of  the  whale’s  brain  being  five 
pounds ; the  weight  of  the  elephant’s  between  eight  and  ten 
pounds.  If  therefore  the  function  of  the  brain  be  solely  or  mainly 
that  of  mental  manifestation,  and  if  size  be  the  measure  of 
power,  the  whale  and  the  elephant  ought  to  surpass  man,  as  a 
Newton  surpasses  an  idiot.  If  on  the  contrary  the  brain,  as  a 
nervous  centre,  has  other  functions  besides  that  of  mental  mani- 
festation, these  discrepancies  can  be  explained,  although  Phrenol- 
ogy must  take  these  other  functions  into  account.* 

It  is  true  that  phrenologists  have  been  aware  of  these  discrep- 
ancies; and,  unable  to  admit  the  whale  and  elephant  as  superior 
to  man,  they  have  met  the  objection  by  saying  the  size  must  be 
estimated  relatively,  not  absolutely.  Compared  with  the  weight 
of  his  body,  the  brain  of  man  is  certainly  heavier  than  the  brains 
of  most  animals,  including  the  whale  and  the  elephant ; and  this 
fact  seems  to  restore  Phrenology  to  its  cheerfulness  on  the  sub- 
ject; but  the  fact  does  not  hold  good  of  monkeys,  the  smaller 
apes,  many  species  of  birds,  and  some  rodents.  This  is  the  dilem- 
ma ; either  the  ratio  of  mental  power  depends  on  the  absolute 
size  of  the  brain,  and  in  this  case  the  elephant  will  be  thrice 
as  intelligent  as  man ; or  it  depends  on  the  relative  size  of  the 
brain  compared  with  the  body,  and  in  this  case  man  will  be  less 
intelligent  than  a monkey  or  a rat,  although  more  intelligent  than 

♦ i have  sketched  the  relations  of  the  brain  to  the  body  in  the  paper 
oefore  referred  to,  on  Dwarfs  and  Giants.  See  Frazer's  Mag.,  Sept.  1856, 
p.  289. 


768 


PHRENOLOGY. 


the  elephant.  Moreover,  if  relative  size  is  the  basis  taken,  phre- 
nologists would  be  bound  to  compare  in  each  case  the  weight  of 
the  brain  with  the  weight  of  the  body,  before  they  could  establish 
a conclusion  ; and  this  is  obviously  impracticable.  I have  stated 
the  dilemma ; but  having  stated  it,  I will  add  that  although  phre- 
nologists attach  importance  to  questions  of  weight  of  the  brain, 
there  seems  to  me  a great  fallacy  involved  in  such  estimates.  Intel- 
ligence is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  balance.  Weight  is  no  index 
of  cerebral  activity,  nor  of  the  special  directions  of  the  activity. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  Phrenology,  so  far  from  at 
present  being  the  only  true  physiological  explanation  of  the  ner- 
vous system,  is  in  so  chaotic  and  unstable  a position  with  respect 
to  its  basis,  as  to  need  thorough  revision ; and  until  some 
phrenologist  shall  arise  who,  following  up  the  impulsion  given  by 
Gall,  can  once  more  place  the  doctrine  on  a level  with  the  science 
of  the  age,  all  men  of  science  must  be  expected  to  slight  the  pre- 
tensions of  Phrenology  as  a psychological  system,  whatever  it  may 
hereafter  become.  That  a new  Gall  will  some  day  arise  I have 
little  doubt,  for  I am  convinced  that  Psychology  must  be  establish- 
ed on  a physiological  basis.  Meanwhile,  for  the  purposes  of  this 
History,  it  suflBces  to  have  indicated  the  nature  of  Gall’s  innova- 
tion, and  the  course  of  inquiry  he  opened.  As  a psychological  clas- 
sification, the  one  now  adopted  in  Phrenology  can  only  be  regarded 
in  the  light  of  a tentative  sketch ; superior  indeed  to  those  which 
preceded  it,  but  one  which  daily  experience  shows  to  be  insufficient. 

To  conclude  this  chapter,  we  may  point  to  Gall  as  having 
formed  an  epoch  in  the  History  of  Philosophy  by  inaugurating 
a new  Method.  From  the  time  when  Philosophy  itself  became 
reduced  to  a question  of  Psychology,  in  order  that  a basis  might 
if  possible,  be  laid,  the  efforts  of  men  were  variously  directed, 
and  all  ended  in  skepticism  and  dissatisfaction,  because  a true 
psychological  Method  did  not  guide  them.  The  history  of  the 
tentatives  towards  a true  Method  has  been  sketched  in  various 
chapters  of  this  volume,  and  with  Gall  that  Method  may  be  said 
to  have  finally  settled  its  fundamental  principles. 


ELEVENTH  EPOCH. 


PHILOSOPHY  FINALLY  RELINQUISHING  ITS  PLACE  IN  FAVOR 
OF  POSITIVE  SCIENCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ECLECTICISM. 

“Nous  ne  croyons  pas  les  choses  parce  qu’elles  sent  vraies,” 
says  Pascal,  “ mais  nous  les  croyons  vraies  parce  que  nous  les 
aimons.”  This  is  one  ever-present  obstacle  to  the  progress  of 
mankind.  We  do  not  love  truth  because  it  is  true,  hut  because 
it  seems  to  countenance  other  opinions  which  we  believe  necessary 
to  our  well-being.  Only  a few  philosophic  minds  have  strength 
enough  to  detach  their  eyes  from  consequences,  and  concentrate 
all  their  attention  on  Truth ; and  these  few  can  only  do  so  in 
virtue  of  their  steadfast  conviction  that  Truth  can  never  be  really 
injurious,  whatever  phantoms  apprehensive  ignorance  may  con- 
jure up  around  it. 

The  reaction  against  the  Philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century 
was  not  a reaction  against  a doctrine  proved  to  be  incompetent, 
but  against  a doctrine  believed  to  be  the  source  of  frightful  im- 
morality. The  reaction  was  vigorous  because  it  was  animated 
by  the  horror  which  agitated  Europe  at  the  hideous  excesses  of 
the  French  Revolution.  Associated  in  men’s  minds  with  th< 
saturnalia  of  the  Terror,  the  philosophical  opinions  of  Condillac 
Diderot,  and  Cabanis  were  held  responsible  for  the  crimes  of  the 
Convention ; and  what  might  be  true  in  those  opinions  was 
dung  aside  with  what  was  false,  without  discrimination,  without 


770 


ECLECTICISM. 


analysis,  in  fierce  impetuous  disgust.  Every  opinion  which  had 
what  was  called  “ a taint  of  materialism,”  or  seemed  to  point  in 
that  direction,  was  denounced  as  an  opinion  necessarily  leading 
to  the  destruction  of  all  Religion,  Morality,  and  Government. 
Every  opinion  which  seemed  to  point  in  the  direction  of  spirit- 
ualism was  eagerly  welcomed,  promulgated,  and  lauded;  not 
because  it  was  demonstrably  true,  but  because  it  was  supposed 
capable  of  preserving  social  order.  And  indeed  when,  looking 
back  upon  those  times,  we  contemplate  the  misery  and  anarchy 
which  disgraced  what  was  an  inevitable  movement,  and  dimmed 
what  was  really  noble  in  the  movement,  we  can  understand  how 
generous  hearts  and  minds,  fluctuating  in  perplexity,  did  instinct- 
ively revolt  not  only  against  the  Revolution,  but  against  all  the 
principles  which  were  ever  invoked  by  the  revolutionists.  Look- 
ing at  the  matter  from  this  distance,  we  can  see  clearly  enough 
that  “ materialism”  had  really  no  more  to  do  with  the  Revolu- 
tion than  Christianity  had  to  do  with  the  hideous  scenes  in 
which  the  Anabaptists  were  actors ; but  we  can  understand  how 
indelible  was  the  association  of  Revolution  and  materialism  in 
the  minds  of  that  generation. 

So  profoundly  influential  has  this  association  been,  that  a cel- 
ebrated surgeon  of  our  own  day  perilled  his  position  by  advo- 
cating an  opinion,  now  universally  accepted,  but  then  generally 
shuddered  at;  namely,  that  the  brain  is  the  “organ”  of  the 
mind.  He  had  to  retract  that  opinion,  which  the  pious  Hartley 
and  many  others  had  advanced  without  offence.  He  had  to 
retract  it,  not  because  it  was  scientifically  untenable,  but  because 
it  was  declared  to  be  morally  dangerous.  It  was  “ materialism,” 
and  materialism  “ led”  to  the  destruction  of  all  morality.  Al- 
though every  man  now  believes  the  brain  ti^  be  veritably  the 
organ  of  the  mind,  the  word  materialism  is  still  used  as  a bug- 
bear. Instead  of  being  refuted  as  false,  it  is  by  many  denounced 
as  dangerous.  I believe  the  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury to  be  dangerous  because  false  ; the  writers  to  whom  I allude 
declare  it  false  because  they  believe  it  dangerous.  I believe  it 


ECLECTICISM. 


771 


also  to  be  in  many  respects  healthful,  because  in  many  respects 
true ; and  it  would  be  uncandid  in  me  not  to  declare  that  if  1 
oppose  the  eighteenth  century  doctrine,  I believe  the  spiritualism 
which  denounces  it  is  even  more  incomplete  as  a philosophy,  and 
consequently  even  more  dangerous  in  its  influence. 

The  history  of  the  reaction  in  France  is  very  instructive,  but 
it  would  require  more  space  than  can  here  be  given  adequately 
to  narrate  the  story.*  Four  streams  of  influence  converged  into 
one,  all  starting  from  the  same  source,  namely,  horror  at  the 
revolutionary  excesses.  The  Catholics,  with  the  great  Joseph 
de  Maistre  and  M.  de  Bonald  at  their  head,  appealed  to  the  relig- 
ious sentiments;  the  Royalists,  with  Chateaubriand  and  Madame 
de  Stael,  appealed  to  the  monarchical  and  literary  sentiments ; 
the  metaphysicians,  with  Laromiguiere  and  Maine  de  Brian,  and 
the  moralists  with  Royer-Collard,  one  and  all  attacked  the  weak 
points  of  Sensationalism,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  enthusi- 
astic reception  of  the  Scotch  and  German  philosophies.  A 
glance  at  almost  any  of  these  writers  will  suffice  to  convince  the 
student  that  their  main  purpose  is  to  defend  morality  and  order, 
which  they  believe  to  be  necessarily  imperilled  by  the  philosophy 
they  attack.  The  appeals  to  the  prejudices  and  sentiments  are 
abiding.  Eloquence  is  made  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  argu- 
ment; emotion  takes  the  place  of  demonstration.  The  hearer 
is  charmed,  roused,  dazzled.  He  learns  to  associate  all  the  nobler 
sentiments  with  spiritualistic  doctrines,  and  all  grovelling  ideas 
with  materialistic  doctrines ; till  the  one  school  becomes  insep- 
arably linked  in  his  mind  with  emotions  of  reverence  for  what- 
3ver  is  lofty,  profound,  and  noble,  and  the  other  with  emotions 
of  contempt  for  whatever  is  shallow  and  unworthy.  The  leaders 
of  the  reaction  were  men  of  splendid  talents,  and  their  work  was 
eminently  successful.  But  now  that  the  heats  of  controversy 
have  cooled,  and  all  these  debates  have  become  historical,  we 

* The  reader  may  consult  on  this  topic  Damiron,  Essai  sur  VHktoire  de  la 
Philosophie  en  France  an  XIXieme  Siecle ; and  Taine,  Les  Philosoplies  Fran- 
fais  du  XIXieme  Siecle. 


772 


ECLECnCISM, 


who  look  at  them  from  a distance  can  find  in  them  no  philosoph 
ical  progress,  no  new  elements  added  which  could  assist  the  evo- 
lution of  Philosophy  and  form  a broader  basis  for  future  monu- 
ments. In  political  and  literary  History  these  attempts  would 
claim  a conspicuous  position ; in  the  History  of  Philosophy  they 
deserve  mention  only  as  having  made  mankind  aware  of  the 
limited  nature  of  the  eighteenth  century  philosophy,  and  its  ex- 
traordinary lacunae.  Their  ofiSce  was  critical,  and  has  been 
fulfilled. 

One  doctrine,  and  one  alone,  emerged  from  these  attempts, 
and  held  for  some  time  the  position  of  a . school.  It  made  a 
noise  in  its  day,  but  even  the  echoes  have  now  become  almost 
inaudible,  for  a feebler  doctrine  scarcely  ever  obtained  acquies- 
cence. We  must,  nevertheless,  bestow  a few  sentences  on  it  to 
make  our  history  complete.  Eclecticism  is  dead,  but  it  produced 
some  good  results,  if  only  by  the  impetus  it  gave  to  historical 
research,  and  by  the  confirmation  it  gave,  in  its  very  weakness, 
to  the  conclusion  that  an  a 'priori  solution  of  transcendental 
problems  is  impossible.  For  Eclecticism  was  the  last  product  of 
philosophical  speculation,  the  gathering  together  of  all  that  phi- 
losophers had  achieved,  and  the  evolution  from  these  separate 
achievements  of  one  final  doctrine,  which  final  doctrine  is  itself 
rejected. 

Victor  Cousin  and  Thomas  Jouffroy  are  the  chiefs  of  this 
school,  one  a brilliant  rhetorician  utterly  destitute  of  originality, 
the  other  a sincere  thinker,  whose  merits  have  been  thrown  into 
the  shade  by  his  brilliant  colleague.  As  a man  of  letters,  M. 
Cousin  deserves  the  respect  which  attends  his  name,  if  we  except 
<he  more  than  questionable  use  which  he  has  made  of  the  labors 
of  pupils  and  assistants  without  acknowledgment.  However, 
our  business  is  not  with  Cousin,  but  with  Eclecticism.  Royer- 
Collard  introduced  the  principles  of  the  Scotch,  school,  to  combat 
with  them  the  principles  of  sensationalism.  Reid  and  Stewart 
were  translated  by  Jouffroy,  explained  and  developed  by  Royer- 
Collard,  Jouffroy,  and  Cousin.  The  talents  of  these  professors, 


ECLECTICISM. 


\ 

773 

aided  by  the  tendency  towards  any  reaction,  made  the  Scotch 
philosophy  dominant  in  France.  But  Victor  Cousin’s  restless 
activity  led  him  to  the  study  of  Kant : — and  the  doctrines  of  the 
“ Konigsberg  sage”  were  preached  by  him  with  the  same  ardor 
as  that  which  he  had  formerly  devoted  to  the  Scotch.  As  soon 
as  the  Parisians  began  to  know  something  of  Kant,  M.  Cousin 
started  off  to  Alexandria  for  a doctrine : he  found  one  in  Proclus. 
He  edited  Proclus ; lectured  on  him ; borrowed  some  of  his 
ideas,  and  would  have  set  him  on  the  throne  of  Philosophy,  had 
the  public  been  willing.  A trip  to  Germany  in  1824  made  him 
acquainted  with  the  modern  Proclus — Hegel.  On  his  return  to 
Paris  he  presented  the  public  with  as  much  of  Hegel’s  doc- 
trines as  he  could  understand.  His  celebrated  Eclecticism  is 
nothing  but  a misconception  of  Hegel’s  History  of  Philosophy^ 
fenced  round  with  several  plausible  arguments. 

All  error,  M.  Cousin  repeatedly  enforces,  is  nothing  but  “ an 
incomplete  view  of  the  truth.”  Upon  this  definition  is  based  the 
proposition  that  “ All  systems  are  incomplete  views  of  the  reality, 
set  up  for  complete  images  of  the  reality.”  The  conclusion  is 
obvious  : “ All  systems  containing  a mixture  of  truth  and  error 
have  only  to  be  brought  together,  and  then  the  error  would  be 
eliminated  by  the  mere  juxtaposition  of  system  with  system. 
The  truth  or  portion  of  the  truth  which  is  in  one  system  would 
be  assimilated  with  the  portions  of  the  truth  which  are  in  other 
systems ; and  thus  the  work  would  be  easy  enough.” 

Eclecticism,  therefore,  means  the  bringing  together  of  all  dis- 
covered truths  eliminated  from  their  accompanying  errors  ; and 
out  of  this  body  of  truths  a doctrine  is  to  be  elaborated.  A great 
task  ; but  is  it  practicable  ? The  system  is  based  on  the  defini- 
tion of  error  ; by  that  it  must  stand  or  fall. 

The  definition  appears  to  us  altogether  untenable.  Error  is 
sometimes  an  incomplete  view  of  the  truth  ; but  it  is  not  always: 
it  is  sometimes  no  view  of  the  truth  at  all,  but  a mere  divergence 
from  it.  When  Newton  constructed  his  theory  of  the  laws  of 
attraction,  and  interposed  an  ether  as  the  medium  through  which 


7U 


eclecticism:. 


they  operated,  he  had  an  incomplete  view  of  the  truth.  But 
when  Descartes  developed  his  theory  of  vortices,  he  was  quite 
wide  of  the  truth — he  was  altogether  wrong.  The  phrase  “ in- 
complete view”  is  indeed  so  vague,  that  men  who  sport  with 
verbal  subtleties  may  justify  the  theory  of  Descartes  as  an  incom- 
plete view  of  the  truth  ; a very  incomplete  view.  At  anv  rate 
no  one  will  be  disposed  to  assert  that  by  the  mere  juxtaposition 
of  Newton’s  doctrine  with  that  of  Descartes  he  could  in  any  way 
eliminate  the  error  that  is  in  both. 

If  therefore  all  systems  are  not  incomplete  v ews  of  the  reality 
— if  all  systems  do  not  contain  certain  portions  of  the  truth — how 
is  the  eclectic  to  decide  which  systems  are  available  for  his  pur- 
pose, which  philosophies  are  to  be  juxtaposed  ? This  leads  to  the 
necessity  of  a criterium.  M.  Jouffroy  tells  us  that  it  is  an  easy 
matter.  We  have  only  to  collect  all  the  systems  which  have 
ever  been  produced,  have  them  translated  and  arranged  in  their 
legitimate  order,  and  the  truths  discovered  by  each  will  become 
organized  in  one  doctrine. 

Without  stopping  to  ask  what  is  the  legitimate  order,  and  how 
we  are  to  know  it,  the  student  is.  naturally  anxious  to  learn  by 
what  criterium  Eclecticism  proposes  to  judge  and  separate  truth 
from  error  in  any  system.  The  inquiry  is  pertinent.  It  is  easy 
to  bid  us  be  careful  in  separating  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  that 
we  may  garner  it  up  in  the  storehouses  of  the  world.  Suppose 
the  farmer  does  not  know  the  wheat  when  he  sees  it,  what  crite- 
rium do  you  give  him  whereby  he  may  judge  wheat  to  be  wheat, 
not  chaff?  None.  The  philosopher  can  only  distinguish  the 
truth  in  two  ways  : either  he  knows  it  already,  and  then  he  has 
vvhat  he  is  seeking  ; or  else  he  knows  it  by  its  relation  to  and 
accordance  with  those  truths  which  he  is  already  in  possession 
of  That  is  to  say,  he  has  a criterium  in  his  System  : those 
views  which  range  under  it,  he  accepts  as  extensions  of  his 
knowledge  ; those  which  range  beyond  its  limits,  he  denies  to  be 
true. 

Suppose  the  eclectic  places  in  juxtaposition  the  two  great 


ECLECTICISM. 


775 


schools  which  have  always  divided  the  Xvorld,  viz.  that  which 
declares  experience  to  be  the  source  of  all  knowledge  ; and  that 
which  declares  we  have  a great  deal  of  our  knowledge  antece- 
dent to  and  independent  of  experience.  Both  of  these  systems 
he  pronounces  to  be  composed  of  truth  and  error.  He  assumes 
this  ; for  a little  consideration  might  tell  him  that  it  is  utterly 
impossible  both  should  be  correct : experience  either  is  or  is  not 
the  sole  fountain  of  knowledge.  The  difference  is  as  decided  as 
that  respecting  the  motion  of  the  earth,  or  the  motion  of  the 
sun.  Ptolemy  and  Copernicus : choose  between  them ; any 
compromise  is  impossible,  unless  you  wish  to  side  with  the  Sizar 
who,  when  the  question  was  put,  “ Does  the  earth  move  round 
the  sun,  or  the  sun  round  the  earth  ?”  replied,  “ Sometimes  one 
and  sometimes  the  other.”  He  was  an  eclectic  apparently.  Let 
us  however  for  a moment  grant  that  the  two  schools  of  Psychol- 
ogy are  both  partly  right  and  partly  wrong ; we  then  ask,  What 
criterium  has  the  eclectic  whereby  to  distinguish  error  from 
truth  ? He  has  none ; the  doctors  are  silent  on  the  point. 

That  men  derive  assistance  from  others,  and  that  those  who 
went  before  us  discovered  many  truths,  all  admit.  And  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  a juxtaposition  and  comparison  of  various 
doctrines  would  be  of  service.  Eclecticism,  therefore,  as  a sub- 
sidiary process  is  valuable  ; and  has  always  been  practised.  M. 
Cousin  however  converts  this  subsidiary  process  into  a primary 
one,  and  dignifies  it  with  the  attributes  of  a Method.  In  the  one 
sense  it  is  simply  that  the  inquirer  consults  the  works  of  his  pre- 
decessors, and  selects  from  them  all  that  he  considers  true  : viz. 
such  portions  as  confirm,  extend,  and  illustrate  his  previous  opin- 
ions ; these  opinions  constituting  his  criterium.  Let  the  reader 
reflect  on  the  pertinacity  with  which  men  refuse  to  admit  views 
which  to  others  are  self-evident,  because  those  views  are  or  seem 
to  be  opposed  to  religion,  or  the  reigning  doctrine,  and  he  will 
clearly  enough  see  the  nature  of  this  criterium.  The  history  of 
opinion  is  crowded  with  instances  of  it.  M.  Cousin  however  does 
not  so  understand  Eclecticism.  He  says  we  should  admit  all 


m 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


Bystems  as  containing  some  truths;  and  these  truths  separate 
themselves  from  errors  by  the  mere  process  of  juxtaposition^ 
somewhat  in  the  manner,  we  presume,  of  chemical  affinities. — 
A theory  that  needs,  one  would  think,  no  further  refutation  than 
a simple  statement  of  its  principles. 

Havmg  dismissed  Eclecticism  as  a Method,  we  need  not  waste 
time  in  examining  M.  Cousin’s  various  and  constantly  shifting 
opinions.  It  is  enough  that  he  himself  has  relinquished  them. 
It  is  enough  that  France  and  Europe  reject  them. 

This  final  doctrine  then  fares  no  better  than  the  doctrines 
which  preceded  it.  Philosophy  is  still  in  search  of  its  Method 
and  its  basis ; and  wearied  out  by  so  many  fruitlel^s  efforts,  it 
finally  gives  up  the  quest,  and  allows  itself  to  be yabsorbed  by 
Science.  The  dogmatic  assertion  of  this  position  is  to  be  found 
in  Auguste  Comte. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ALGUSTE  COMTE. 

As  I have  devoted  a whole  volume  to  the  exposition  of  Comte’s 
philosophy,*  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  enter  into  a detailed  exposi- 
tion here ; and  the  small  space  at  disposal  may  be  occupied  with 
a general  indication  of  his  historical  position  and  the  nature  of 
his  Method. 

In  the  course  of  this  History  one  fact  has  been  gradually  as- 
suming more  and  more  distinctness,  as  the  various  failures  to 
establish  any  solid  basis  for  Philosophy  have  been  brought  before 
us  : namely,  that  mankind  has,  from  the  origin  of  speculative  in- 
quiry, been  pursuing  a false  Method.  Gradually,  as  men  became 
dware  of  this  fact,  they  withdrew  themselves  more  and  more  from 
Philosophy,  and  devoted  their  speculative  energy  to  Science. 

* Comte's  Philosophy  of  the  Sciences,  1853  (Bohn’s  Scientific  Library,  vol.  SOL 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


7Y7 


Even  those  who,  reluctant  to  relinquish  the  high  aims  of  Philoso- 
phy, tried  by  changes  of  direction  to  discover  new  and  more  pros- 
perous issues,  and  hoped  in  reinvestigating  the  nature  of  human 
knowledge  to  disclose  some  yet  unsuspected  path  which  might 
lead  them  to  the  goal,  found  Psychology  itself  forced  to  range 
beside  the  positive  sciences,  and  to  adopt  me  one  Method  which 
hitherto  had  alone  been  fruitful  in  results.  And  while  from  all 
directions  a convergence  towards  Science  was  silently  taking 
place,  there  arose  a powerful  thinker  who  proclaimed  the  in- 
herent necessity  of  this  convergence,  and  the  necessity  under 
which'  Philosophy  now  was  of  definitively  relinquishing  its 
ancient  claims  in  favor  of  the  positive  Method,  which  could  lead 
men  to  a general  doctrine  such  as  might  once  more  establish  har- 
mony in  their  endeavors,  and  give  to  Europe  an  invigorating  faith. 

In  the  Cours  de  Philosophie  Positive,  6 vols.,  1830—42,  Au- 
guste Comte  did  for  the  nineteenth  century  what  Bacon  did  for 
the  seventeenth : he  resumed  in  one  vast  work  the  various  re- 
forming tendencies  of  preceding  ages.  Whoever  casts  his 
glance  at  the  present  intellectual  state  of  Europe,  will  perceive  a 
great  want  of  unity,  caused  by  the  absence  of  any  one  doctrine, 
general  enough  to  embrace  every  variety  of  ideas,  and  positive 
enough  to  carry  with  it  irresistible  conviction.  Look  at  the  state 
of  Religion ; — Catholicism  and  Protestantism  make  one  great 
division ; but  within  the  sphere  of  each  we  see  numerous  subdi- 
visions ; the  variety  of  sects  is  daily  increasing.  Each  Religion 
has  remarkable  men  amongst  its  members  ; but  each  refuses  to 
admit  the  doctrines  of  the  others.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  one  gen- 
,.eral  doctrine  capable  of  embracing  Catholics,  Protestants,  Mo- 
hammedans, and  their  subdivisions.  Look  also  at  the  state  of 
Philosophy  There  is  no  one  system  universally  accepted  ; there 
are  as  many  philosophies  as  there  are  speculative  nations,  almost 
as  many  as  there  are  professors.  The  dogmas  of  Germany  are 
held  in  England  and  Scotland  as  the  dreams  of  alchemists ; the 
Psychology  of  Scotland  is  laughed  at  in  Germany,  and  neglected 
in  England  and  France.  Besides  this  general  dissidence,  we  see. 


AUGUSTE  COMTE 


rrs 

in  France  and  Germany  at  least,  great  opposition  between  Re- 
ligion and  Philosophy  openly  pronounced.  This  opposition  is 
inevitable  : it  lies  in  the  very  nature  of  Philosophy  ; and  although, 
now  as  heretofore,  many  professors  eagerly  argue  that  the  two 
are  perfectly  compatible  and  accordant,  the  discordance  is,  and 
always  must  be,  apparent. 

With  respect  to  general  doctrines,  then,  we  find  the  state  of 
Europe  to  be  this  : religions  opposed  to  religions  ; philosophies 
opposed  to  philosophies ; and  Religion  and  Philosophy  at  war 
with  each  other.  Such  is  the  anarchy  in  the  h^her  regions. 

In  the  positive  sciences  there  is  less  dissidence,  but  there  is  the 
same  absence  of  any  general  doctrine ; each  science  is  on  a firm 
basis,  and  rapidly  improves ; but  a Philosophy  of  Science  is  no- 
where to  be  found  except  in  the  work  of  M.  Auguste  Comte> 
which  comes  forward  with  the  express  purpose  of  supplying  the 
deficiency.  The  speciality  of  most  scientific  men,  and  their  in- 
capacity of  either  producing  or  accepting  general  ideas,  has 
long  been  a matter  of  complaint;  and  this  has  been  one  great 
cause  of  the  continuance  of  Philosophy : for  men  of  speculative 
ability  saw  clearly  enough  that  however  exact  each  science 
might  be  in  itself,  it  could  only  form  a part  of  Philosophy. 
Moreover,  the  evil  of  speciality  is  not  confined  to  neglecting  the 
whole  for  the  sake  of  the  parts ; it  affects  the  very  highest  con- 
dition of  Science,  namely,  its  capability  of  instructing  and  direct- 
ing society. 

In  the  early  ages  of  speculation,  general  views  were  eagerly 
sought  and  easily  obtained.  As  Science  became  rich  and  com- 
plex in  materials,  various  divisions  took  place ; and  one  man 
cultivated  one  science,  another  man  another.  Even  then  general 
views  were  not  absent.  But  as  the  tide  rolled  on,  discovery  suc- 
ceeding discovery,  and  new  tracts  of  inquiry  leading  to  vast 
wildernesses  of  undiscovered  truth,  it  became  necessary  for  one 
man  to  devote  himself  only  to  a small  fraction  of  a science,  which 
he  pursued,  leaving  to  others  the  task  of  bringing  his  researches 
under  their  general  head.  Such  a minute  division  of  labor  was 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


779 


necessary  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  minute  and  laborious 
researches ; but  it  ended  in  making  men  of  science  regard  only 
the  individual  parts  of  science ; the  construction  of  general  doc- 
trines was  left  to  philosophers.  A fatal  error  ; for  such  doctrines 
could  only  he  truly  constructed  out  of  the  materials  of  Science 
and  upon  the  Method  of  Science ; whereas  the  philosophers  were 
ignorant  of  Science — or  only  superficially  acquainted  with  it — 
and  despised  the  Method.  The  Natur-Philosophie  of  Schelling 
and  Hegel  is  a sufficiently  striking  example  of  the  results  of  such 
a procedure.  ■’ 

We  come  then  to  this  conclusion:  in  the  present ^ state  of 
things  the  speculative  domain  is  composed  of  two  very  different 
portions, — general  ideas  and  positive  sciences.  The  general  ideas 
are  powerless  because  they  are  not  positive ; the  positive  sciences 
are  powerless  because  they  are  not  general..  The  new  Philosophy 
which,  under  the  title  of  Positive,  M.  Comte  proposes  to  create 
— and  the  basis  of  which  he  has  himself  laid — is  destined  to  put 
an  end  to  this  anarchy,  by  presenting  a doctrine  which  is  posi- 
tive, because  elaborated  from  the  sciences,  and  yet  possessing  all 
the  desired  generality  of  metaphysical  doctrines,  without  possess- 
ing their  vagueness,  instability,  and  inapplicability. 

Besides  this  general  aim  of  the  new  “ Great  Instauration,”  we 
have  to  notice  three  initial  conceptions  which  Comte  advances, 
two  of  which  relate  to  Method,  and  one  to  History. 

The  first  is  the  conception  of  Philosophy,  which,  in  its  widest 
sense,  is  identical  with  Science  ; consequently  one  Method  must 
be  followed  in  all  investigations,  whether  the  investigations  relate 
to  Physics,  to  Psychology,  to  Ethics,  or  to  Politics,  Every  spe- 
cial science,  no  matter  what  its  subject-matter,  is  but  a branch  of 
the  one  Positive  Philosophy. 

The  second  conception  is  that  of  Classification,  whereby  all 
the  special  sciences  will  assume  their  proper  place  in  the  hie 
rarchy  of  Science,  the  simpler  being  studied  first,  and  thus  becom- 
ing instruments  for  the  better  prosecution  of  those  which  suc- 
ceed. Thus  Mathematics  becomes  the  instrument  of  Astronomy 


780 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


and  Physics ; Chemistry  becomes  the  instrument  of  Biology 
and  Biology  becomes  the  instrument  of  Sociology. 

The  third  conception  is  that  of  the  fundamental  law  of  evolu 
tion.  This  conception  sets  forth  that  Humanity  has  three  stages, 
the  Theological,  the  Metaphysical,  and  the  Positive.  Whether 
we  examine  the  history  of  nations,  of  individuals,  or  of  special 
sciences,  we  find  that  speculation  always- commences  with  super- 
natural explanations,  advances  to  metaphysical  explanations,  and 
finally  reposes  in  positive  explanations.  The  first  is  the  neces- 
sary point  of  departure  taken  by  human  intelligence  ; the  second 
is  merely  a stage  of  transition  from  the  supernatural  to  the  posi- 
tive ; and  the  third  is  the  fixed  and  definite  condition  in  which 
knowledge  is  alone  capable  of  progressive  development. 

In  the  Theological  stage,  the  mind  regards  all  efi'ects  as  the 
productions  of  supernatural  agents,  whose  intervention  is  the 
cause  of  all  the  apparent  anomalies  and  irregularities.  Nature  is 
animated  by  supernatural  beings.  Every  unusual  phenomenon 
is  a sign  of  the  pleasure  or  displeasure  of  some  being  adored  and 
propitiated  as  a God.  The  lowest  condition  of  this  stage  is  that 
of  the  savages,  viz.  Fetishism.  The  highest  condition  is  when 
one  being  is  substituted  for  many,  as  the  cause  of  all  phenomena. 

In  the  Metaphysical  stage,  which  is  only  a modification  of  the 
former,  but  which  is  important  as  a transitional  stage,  the  super- 
natural agents  give  place  to  abstract  forces  (personified  abstrac- 
tions) supposed  to  inhere  in  the  various  substances,  and  capable 
themselves  of  engendering  phenomena.  The  highest  condition 
of  this  stage  is  when  all  these  forces  are  brought  under  one  gen- 
eral force  named  Nature. 

In  the  Positive  stage,  the  mind,  convinced  of  the  futility  of  all 
inquiry  into  causes  and  essences,  applies  itself  to  the  observation 
and  classification  of  laws  which  regulate  effects  : that  is  to  say, 
the  invariable  relations  of  succession  and  similitude  which  all 
things  bear  to  each  other.  The  highest  condition  of  this  stage 
would  be,  to  be  able  to  represent  all  phenomena  as  the  various 
particulars  of  one  general  view. 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


781 


Tims,  in  Astronomy  we  may  trace  the  gradual  evolution  from 
Apollo  and  his  chariot,  through  the  Pythagorean  ideas  of  Num- 
bers, Harmonies,  and  so  many  other  metaphysical  abstractions, 
to  the  firm  basis  on  which  it  is  now  settled ; the  law  of  gravita- 
tion. So  that  it  is  by  geometry  and  dynamics  we  hope  to  wrest 
their  secret  from  the  spheres ; not  by  the  propitiation  of  a Sun- 
god.  Thus  also  in  Physics,  where  thunder  was  the  intervention 
of  Jove,  and  where  Metaphysics  had  introduced  Nature’s  “ hor- 
ror of  a void,”  Science  seeks  the  laws  of  gravitation,  elfeciricity, 
light,  etc. 

In  the  work  already  mentioned  I have  illustrated  this  law  in 
many  ways.  The  reader  is  advised  however  to  seek  in  Comte’s 
own  volumes  for  a complete  verification  of  the  law,  and  its  im- 
portance in  all  historical  inquiry.'*  A few  sentences  will  sufiice 
to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  three  stages : — All  are  agreed,  in 
these  days,  that  real  knowledge  must  be  founded  on  the  observa- 
tion of  facts.  But  no  science  could  have  its  origin  in  simple  ob- 
servation ; for  if,  on  the  one  hand,  all  positive  theories  must  be 
founded  on  observation,  so,  on  the  other,  it  is  equally  necessary 
to  have  some  sort  of  theory  before  we  address  ourselves  to  the 
task  of  steady  observation.  If,  in  contemplating  phenomena,  we 
do  not  connect  them  with  some  principle,  it  would  not  only  be 
impossible  for  us  to  combine  our  isolated  observations,  and  con- 
sequently to  draw  any  benefit  from  them ; but  we  should  also 
be  unable  even  to  retain  them,  and  most  frequently  the  impor- 
tant facts  would  remain  unperceived.  We  are  consequently 
forced  to  theorize.  A theory  is  necessary  to  observation,  and  a 
correct  theory  to  correct  observation. 

This  double  necessity  imposed  upon  the  mind — of  observation 
for  the  formation  of  a theory,  and  of  a theory  for  the  practice  of 
observation — would  have  caused  it  to  move  in  a circle,  if  nature 
had  not  fortunately  provided  an  outlet  in  the  spontaneous  activ- 


* This  advice  can  the  more  easily  be  followed  now  that  a translated  con- 
densation of  the  Positive  Philosophy  by  Harriet  Martineau,  has  placed  tbs 
work  within  reach  of  English  readers. 

52 


782 


A.trG'DSTE  COMTE. 


ity  of  the  mind.  This  activity  causes  it  to  begin  by  assuming  a 
cause,  which  it  seeks  out  of  nature,  i.  e.  a supernatural  cause. 
As  man  is  conscious  that  he  acts  according  as  he  wills,  so  he  nat- 
urally concludes  that  every  thing  acts  in  accordance  with  some 
superior  will.  Hence  Fetishism,  which  is  nothing  but  the  endow- 
ment of  inanimate  things  with  life  and  volition.  . This  is  the 
logical  necessity  for  the  supernatural  stage  : the  mind  com- 
mences with  the  unknowable  ; it  has  first  to  learn  its  impotence, 
to  learn  the  limits  of  its  range,  before  it  can  content  itself  with 
the  knowable. 

The  metaphysical  stage  is  equally  important  as  the  transitive 
stage.  The  supernatural  and  positive  stages  are  so  widely  op- 
posed that  they  require  intermediate  notions  to  bridge  over  the 
chasm.  In  substituting  an  entity  inseparable  from  phenomena 
for  a supernatural  agent,  through  whose  will  these  phenomena 
were  produced,  the  mind  became  habituated  to  consider  only  the 
phenomena  themselves.  This  was  a most  important  condition. 
The  result  was,  that  the  ideas  of  these  metaphysical  entities 
gradually  faded,  and  were  lost  in  the  mere  abstract  names  of  the 
phenomena. 

The  positive  stage  was  now  possible.  The  mind  having  ceased 
to  interpose  either  supernatural  agents  or  metaphysical  entities 
between  the  phenomena  and  their  production,  attended  solely 
to  the  phenomena  themselves.  These  it  reduced  to  laws  y in 
other  words,  it  arranged  them  according  to  their  invariable  re- 
lations of  similitude  and  succession.  The  search  after  essences 
and  causes  was  renounced.  The  pretension  to  absolute  knowl- 
edge was  set  aside.  The  discovery  of  laws  became  the  great  ob- 
ject of  mankind. 

Kemember  that  although  every  branch  of  knowledge  must 
pass  through  these  three  stages,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  evo- 
lution, nevertheless  the  progress  is  not  strictly  chronological. 
Some  sciences  are  more  rapid  in  their  evolution  than  others ; 
some  individuals  pass  through  these  evolutions  more  quickly  than 
others  ; so  also  of  nations.  The  present  intellectual  anarchy  re^ 


AtIGUSTE  COMTE. 


783 


suits  from  that  difference ; some  sciences  being  in  the  positive, 
some  in  the  supernatural,  and  some  in  the  metaphysical  stage  : 
and  this  is  further  to  be  subdivided  into  individual  differences ; 
for  in  a science  which,  on  the  whole,  may  fairly  be  admitted  as 
being  positive,  there  will  be  found  some  cultivators  still  in  the 
metaphysical  stage.  Astronomy  is  now  in  so  positive  a condi- 
tion, that  we  need  nothing  but  the  laws  of  dynamics  and  gravi- 
tation to  explain  all  celestial  phenomena ; and  this  explanation 
we  know  to  be  correct,  as  far  as  any  thing  can  be  known,  because 
we  can  predict  the  return  of  a comet  with  the  nicest  accuracy, 
or  can  enable  the  mariner  to  discover  his  latitude  and  find  his 
way  amidst  the  “ waste  of  waters.”  This  is  a positive  science. 
But  so  far  is  meteorology  from  such  a condition,  that  prayers  for 
dry  or  rainy  weather  are  still  offered  up  in  churches ; whereas  if 
once  the  laws  of  these  phenomena  were  traced,  there  would  no 
more  be  prayers  for  rain  than  for  the  sun  to  rise  at  midnight. 
Remark  also,  that  while  in  the  present  day  no  natural  philoso- 
pher is  unwise  enough  to  busy  himself  with  the  attempt  to  dis- 
cover the  cause  of  attraction,  thousands  are  busy  in  the  attempt 
to  discover  the  cause  of  life  and  the  essence  of  mind.  This  differ- 
ence characterizes  positive  and  metaphysical  sciences.  The  one 
IS  content  with  a general  fact,  that  “ attraction  is  directly  as  the 
mass  and  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance this  being 
sufficient  for  all  scientific  purposes,  because  enabling  us  to  pre- 
dict with  unerring  certainty  the  results  of  that  operation.  The 
metaphysician  or  metaphysical  physiologist,  on  the  contrary,  is 
more  occupied  with  guessing  at  the  causes  of  life,  than  in  observ- 
ing and  classifying  vital  phenomena  with  a view  to  detect  their 
laws  of  operation.  First  he  guesses  it  to  be  what  he  calls  a 
“ vital  principle” — a mysterious  entity  residing  in  the  frame,  and 
capable  of  engendering  phenomena.  He  then  proceeds  to  guess 
at  the  nature  or  essence  of  this  principle,  and  pronounces  it 
“ electricity,”  or  “ nervous  fiuid,”  or  “ chemical  affinity.”  Thus 
he  heaps  hypothesis  upon  hypothesis,  and  clouds  the  subject  from 
his  view. 


784 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


The  more  closely  we  examiue  the  present  condition  of  the  sci 
ences,  the  more  we  shall  be  struck  with  the  anarchy  above  indi- 
cated. We  shall  find  one  science  (Physics)  in  a perfectly  posi- 
tive stage,  another  (Biology)  in  the  metaphysical  stage,  a third 
(Sociology)  in  the  supernatural  stage.  Nor  is  this  all.  The 
same  varieties  will  be  found  to  co-exist  in  the  same  individual 
mind.  The  same  man  who  in  Physics  may  be  said  to  have  ar- 
rived at  the  positive  stage,  and  recognizes  no  other  object  of  in- 
quiry than  the  laws  of  phenomena,  will  be  found  still  a slave  to 
the  metaphysical  stage  in  Biology,  and  endeavoring  to  detect  the 
cause  of  life ; and  so  little  emancipated  from  the  supernatural 
stage  in  Sociology,  that  if  you  talk  to  him  of  the  possihility  of  a 
science  of  history,  or  a social  science,  he  will  laugh  at  you  as 
a “theorizer.”  The  present  condition  of  Science,  therefore,  ex- 
hibits three  Methods  instead  of  one : hence  the  anarchy.  To 
remedy  the  evil  all  ditferences  must  cease  : one  Method  must 
preside.  Auguste  Comte  was  the  first  to  point  out  the  fact,  and 
to  suggest  the  cure  ; and  it  will  render  his  name  immortal.  So 
long  as  the  supernatural  explanation  of  phenomena  was  univer- 
sally accepted,  so  long  was  there  unity  of  thought,  because  one 
general  principle  was  applied  to  all  facts.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  metaphysical  stage,  though  in  a less  degree,  because 
it  was  never  universally  accepted  ; it  was  in  advance  of  the 
supernatural,  but  before  it  could  attain  universal  recognition,  the 
positive  stage  had  already  begun.  When  the  positive  Method  is 
universally  accepted — and  the  day  we  hope  is  not  far  distant,  at 
least  among  the  elite  of  humanity — then  shall  we  again  have 
unity  of  thought,  then  shall  we  again  have  one  general  doctrine 
powerful  because  general.  That  the  positive  Method  is  the  only 
Method  adapted  to  human  capacity,  the  only  one  on  which  truth 
can  be  found,  ie  easily  proved  : on  it  alone  can  prevision  of  phe- 
nomena depend.  Prevision  is  the  characteristic  and  the  test  of 
knowledge.  If  we  can  predict  certain  results  and  if  they  occur 
as  we  predicted,  then  are  we  assured  that  our  knowledge  is  cor- 
rect. If  the  wind  blows  according  to  the  will  of  Boreas,  we  may. 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


785 


tudit&A,  propitiate  his  favor,  but  we  cannot  calculate  upon  it.  We 
can  have  no  certain  knowledge  whether  the  wind  will  blow  or 
not.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  subject  to  laws,  like  every  thing 
else,  once  discover  these  laws,  and  men  will  predict  concerning 
it  as  they  predict  concerning  other  matters.  ‘‘  Even  the  wind 
and  rain,”  to  use  the  language  of  one  of  our  clearest  writers, 
“ which  in  common  speech  are  the  types  of  uncertainty  and 
change,  obey  laws  as  fixed  as  those  of  the  sun  and  moon  ; and 
already,  as  regards  many  parts  of  the  earth,  man  can  foretell 
them  without  fear  of  being  deceived.  He  plans  his  voyages  to 
suit  the  coming  monsoons,  and  prepares  against  the  floods  of  the 
rainy  season.”*  If  one  other  argument  be  needed,  we  would 
simply  refer  to  the  gradual  and  progressive  improvement  which 
has  always  taken  place  in  every  department  of  inquiry  conduct- 
ed upon  the  positive  Method — and  with  a success  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  its  rigorous  employment  of  that  Method — contrasted 
with  the  circular  movement  of  Philosophy,  which  is  just  as  far 
from  a solution  of  any  one  of  its  problems  as  it  was  flve  thousand 
years  ago  ; the  only  truths  that  it  can  be  said  to  have  acquired 
are  a few  psychological  truths,  and  these  it  owes  to  the  positive 
Method.  So  little  has  the  Philosophy  of  Science  been  studied, 
that  Comte’s  admirable  classiflcation  of  the  fundamental  sciences 
has  not  only  been  regarded  as  a merely  ingenious  speculation, 
but  many  writers  have  said  that  it  was  not  difi’erent  from  other 
classifications  which  had  been  proposed,  among  which  Hegel’s 
has  been  mentioned.  But  the  resemblance  is  only  superficial. 
A few  sentences  must  suffice  here  to  indicate  the  principle  on 
which  it  is  based  : — The  problem  to  be  solved  is  the  dependence 
of  the  sciences  upon  each  other.  This  dependence  can  only  re- 
sult from  that  of  the  corresponding  phenomena.  In  considering 
these,  it  is  easy  to  class  them  in  a small  number  of  natural  cate 
gories,  so  disposed  that  the  rational  study  of  each  successive 
category  should  be  founded  on  the  knowledge  of  the  principal 


* Dr.  Arnott’s  Elements  of  Physics,  fifth  edition,  vol.  i,  p.  13. 


786 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


laws  of  the  preceding  category.  The  order  of  their  dependence 
is  determined  by  the  degree  of  simplicity  or  generality  of  the 
phenomena.  It  is  evident  that  the  most  simple  phenomena — 
those  which  are  least  mixed  up  with  others — are  the  most  gen- 
eral ; for  that  which  is  observed  in  the  greatest  number  of  circum- 
stances is  the  most  independent  of  the  various  particulars  of 
those  circumstances.  The  principle  therefore  to  be  adopted  is 
this  : we  must  commence  with  the  study  of  the  most  simple  or 
general  phenomena,  and  proceed  successively  to  the  most  com- 
plex and  particular. 

A distinction  is  to  be  made  between  the  two  classes  of  pheno- 
mena which  are  manifested  by  inorganized  bodies  and  by  organ- 
ized bodies.  The  phenomena  of  the  latter  are  obviously  more 
complex  than  those  of  the  former  ; they  greatly  depend  upon  in- 
organized  bodies,  while  these  in  no  way  depend  upon  organized 
bodies.  Organized  bodies  manifest  all  the  phenomena  of  the  in- 
organized,  whether  chemical  or  mechanical ; but  they  also  mani- 
fest the  phenomena  named  vital,  which  are  never  manifested  by 
inorganized  bodies. 

In  the  study  of  inorganic  Physics  we  commence  by  separating 
the  general  phenomena  of  the  universe  from  the  less  general  ter- 
restrial phenomena.  Thus  we  have,  first,  celestial  Physics,  or 
Astronomy,  whether  geometrical  or  mechanical ; secondly,  ter- 
restrial Physics.  The  phenomena  of  Astronomy  being  the  most 
general,  the  most  simple,  and  the  most  abstract  of  all,  we  must 
begin  our  study  with  them.  Their  laws  influence  all  other  ter- 
restrial phenomena,  of  which  they  are  essentially  independent. 
In  all  terrestrial  Physics  universal  gravitation  is  a condition ; 
and  so  the  simple  movement  of  the  body,  if  we  would  consider 
all  the  determining  conditions,  is  a subject  of  greater  complexity 
than  any  astronomical  question. 

Terrestrial  Physics  is  also  divided  into  two  classes  : Physics 
and  Chemistry.  Chemistry,  rightly  conceived,  presupposes  a 
knowledge  of  Physics : for  all  chemical  phenomena  are  more 
complex  than  those  of  Physics,  and  depend  on  them  in  great  part : 


AUGUSTE  COMTE. 


787 


whereas  they  have  no  influence  on  physical  phenomena.  All 
chemical  action  is  subject  to  the  influence  of  weight,  heat,  etc., 
and  must  therefore  be  treated  after  them. 

Organic  Physics  requires  a similar  division  into  Biology  and 
Sociology.  The  phenomena  relating  to  mankind  are  obviously 
more  complex  than  those  relating  to  the  individual  man,  and 
depend  upon  them.  In  all  social  questions  we  see  in  operation 
the  physiological  laws  of  man ; and  we  see  also  something  pe- 
culiar, not  physiological,  which  modifies  the  effects  of  these  laws, 
and  which  results  from  the  action  of  individuals  on  each  other, 
curiously  complicated  by  the  action  of  each  generation  on  its  suc- 
cessor. It  would  be  manifestly  as  impossible  to  treat  the  study 
of  the  collective  species  as  a pure  deduction  from  the  study  of 
the  individual,  as  it  would  be  to  treat  Physiology  as  a pure  de- 
duction from  Chemistry. 

The  Positive  Philosophy  therefore  resolves  itself  into  five  fun- 
damental sciences,  of  which  the  succession  is  determined  by  a 
necessary  and  invariable  subordination  founded  on  a comparison 
of  corresponding  phenomena.  The  first  (Astronomy)  considers 
the  most  general,  simple,  and  abstract  phenomena — those  far- 
thest removed  from  humanity : they  influence  all  others,  but  are 
not  influenced  by  them.  The  last  (Sociology)  considers  the 
most  particular,  complex,  and  concrete  phenomena — those  most 
directly  interesting  to  man  ; they  depend  more  or  less  upon  all 
the  preceding  classes,  without  exercising  on  the  latter  the  slight- 
est influence.  Between  these  tw'o  extremes  the  degrees  of  spe- 
ciality and  of  complication  of  phenomena  gradually  augment 
according  to  their  successive  independence. 

The  foundation  of  a comprehensive  Method  is  the  great 
achievement  of  Comte,  as  it  was  of  Bacon,  and  the  influence  he 
has  exercised,  and  must  continue  to  exercise,  will  be  almost  ex- 
clusively in  that  direction.  Over  his  subsequent  efibrts  to  found 
a social  doctrine,  and  to  become  the  founder  of  a new  religion, 
let  us  draw  the  veil.  They  are  unfortunate  attempts  which  re- 
mind us  of  Bacon’s  scientific  investigations ; and,  in  the  minds  o 


788 


CONCLUSION. 


many,  these  unfortunate  attempts  will  create  a prejudice  against 
what  is  truly  grand  in  his  philosophic  career.  In  the  Cours  de 
Philosophic  Positive  we  have  the  grandest,  because  on  the  whole 
the  truest,  system  which  Philosophy  has  yet  produced  ; nor 
should  any  differences,  which  must  inevitably  arise  on  points  of 
detail,  make  us  forget  the  greatness  of  the  achievement  and  the 
debt  we  owe  to  the  lonely  thinker  who  wrought  out  this  system. 


CONCLUSION. 

Modern  Philosophy  opens  with  a Method  ; and  ends  with  a 
Method ; and  in  each  case  this  method  leads  to  positive  Science, 
and  sets  Metaphysics  aside.  Within  these  limits  we  have  wit- 
nessed various  efforts  to  solve  the  problems  of  Philosophy ; and 
all  those  efforts  have  ended  in  skepticism. 

There  are  two  characteristics  of  Modern  Philosophy  which 
may  here  be  briefly  touched  on.  The  first  is  the  progressive 
development  of  Science,  which  in  ancient  speculations  occupied 
the  subordinate  rank,  and  which  now  occupies  the  highest.  The 
second  is  the  reproduction  in  Philosophy  of  all  the  questions 
which  agitated  the  Greeks,  which  also  pass  through  a similar 
course  of  development:  not  only  are  the  questions  similar,  but 
their  evolutions  are  so. 

After  the  Eleatics  had  vexed  the  problems  of  Existence  to  no 
purpose,  there  came  Democritus,  Anaxagoras,  Plato,  and  Aris- 
totle, who  endeavored  to  settle  the  problems  of  the  nature  and 
origin  of  human  knowledge.  So,  in  modern  times,  after  Des- 
cartes and  Spinoza,  came  Hobbes,  Locke,  Leibnitz,  Reid,  and 
Kant.  The  ancient  researches  into  the  origin  of  knowledge 
ended  in  the  Skeptics,  the  Stoics,  and  the  New  Academy  : that 
is  to  say,  in  Skepticism,  Common  Sense,  and  Skepticism  again. 
The  modern  researches  ended  in  Berkeley,  Hume,  Reid,  and 
Kant : that  is,  in  Idealism,  Skepticism,  Common  Sense,  and 


CONCLUSION. 


789 


Skepticism  agaiu.  These  inquiries  terminating  thus  fruitlessly, 
a new  and  desperate  spring  was  made  in  Alexandria ; reason 
was  given  up  for  ecstasy ; Philosophy  merged  itself  in  Religion. 
In  Germany  a similar  spectacle  presents  itself:  Schelling  identi- 
fied Philosophy  with  Religion.  Thus  has  Philosophy  Tromplet;erd-*- 
jts- circle,  and  we  are  left  in  this  nineteenth  centurj  jprecise^^a^ 
the  same  point  at  which  we  were  in  the  fifth. 

Observe,  however — and  the  fact  Ts  full  of  significance — how, 
in  the  course  of  speculation,  those  questions  which  were  suscepti- 
ble of  positive  treatment,  gradually  acquired  strength  and  devel- 
opment. If  we  are  as  far  removed  from  a solution  of  any  onto- 
logical problem  as  we  were  in  the  days  of  Proclus,  we  are  not 
nearly  so  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  mental  operation.  Psychology 
is  not  a mature  science  yet ; but  it  boasts  of  some  indisputable 
truths.  Although  much  remains  to  do,  much  also  has  been 
done  ; and  whatever  be  the  ultimate  results  of  the  new  Method, 
it  is  satisfactory  to  feel  that  we  have  at  least  escaped  from  the 
vicious  circle  of  verbal  quibbling  and  logomachy,  and  are  advan- 
cing on  a straight  road,  every  step  bringing  us  nearer  to  positive 
knowledge,  every  addition  being  that  of  inalienable  truth. 

Modern  philosophy  staked  its  pretensions  on  the  one  ques- 
tion : Have  we  any  ideas  independent  of  experience  ? This  was 
asking,  in  other  words.  Have  we  any  organon  of  Philosophy  ? 

The  answer  always  ends  in  a negative.  If  any  one,  therefore, 
remain  unshaken  by  the  accumulated  proofs  this  History  alFords 
of  the  impossibility  of  Philosophy,  let  him  distinctly  bear  in 
mind  that  the  first  problem  he  must  solve  is.  Have  we  ideas  in- 
dependent of  experience  ? Let  him  solve  that  ere  he  begins  tc 
peculate. 


4 

i 

i 

'A 

J 


INDEX 


Abelard,  his  character,  hirth,  de- 
scent, studies,  346  ; love  of  dia- 
lectics, taste  for  notoriety,  personal 
appearance,  triumph  over  his  mas- 
ter, origin  of  his  misfortunes,  348  ; 
establishes  a school  of  philosophy, 
his  debate  with  Champeaux,  349  ; 
his  brilliant  career,  intrigue  with 
Heloise,  350-355  ; becomes  a monk, 
founds  the  convent  of  the  Para- 
clete, his  philosophy  and  contribu- 
tions to  the  development  of  specu- 
lation, 355  ; peculiarity  of  his  doc- 
trine, 357-859  ; object  of  his  work 
Introductio  ad  Theulogiam,  his  trea- 
tise Sic  et  Non,  359. 

Academy,  the  New,  difference  be- 
tween the  skepticism  of  the  New 
Academicians  and  that  of  the  Pyr- 
rhonists,  293  ; its  derivation  from 
Plato  explained,  296. 

Academicians,  the  New,  problem  re- 
specting perception  presented  by 
them,  298-304. 

Alcibiades,  his  description  of  Socra- 
tes, 123. 

Algazzali:  birth,  parentage,  studies, 
profession,  363  ; resemblance  be- 
tween him  and  Descartes,  363 ; his 
skepticism,  364 ; his  examination 
of  doctrines  held  by  the  faithful, 
366  ; his  career  and  endeavors  to 
attain  the  ecstatic  state,  367  ; his 
attempts  to  prove  the  existence  of 
prophetism,  369. 

Alexandrian  schools,  the,  307;  schools 
of  philosophy  formed  at  Alexandria, 
308 ; illustrious  men  assembled 
there,  809  ; direction  given  to  the 
mind  by  the  Alexandrian  school, 
313  ; in  what  its  originality  con- 
sists, its  dialectics,  315 ; its  theories 
of  inspiration,  819  ; the  Alexandrian 
Trinity,  320-324 ; similarity  of  the 
Alexandrian  Trinity  to  that  of  Spi- 
noza, 326  ; aim  of  the  Alexandrian 
school,  833  ; its  termination  in  Pro- 
clus,  336. 


Ameinias,  his  statement  respecting 
Parmenides,  49. 

Anaximander,  his  birth,  inventions 
ascribed  to  him,  10  ; astronomical 
and  mathematical  knowledge,  lead- 
er of  a colony  to  Apollonia,  resi- 
dence at  the  court  of  Polycrates, 
doctrines  and  speculations,  11 ; his 
distinction  between  finite  things 
and  the  Infinite  All,  13  ; his  specu- 
lations wholly  deductive,  14 ; his 
physical  speculations,  15 ; harmony 
between  him  and  Pytliagoras,  83. 

Anaximenes,  doctrines  of,  a develop- 
ment of  those  of  Thales,  his  birth- 
place, his  theory  respecting  air,  6 ; 
his  doctrine  an  advance  on  Thales,  7. 

Anaxagoras  : birth,  patrimony,  char- 
acter, passion  for  philosophy,  and 
residence  at  Athens,  71 ; his  pov- 
erty, career  as  a teacher,  pupils, 
accusation,  banishment,  death,  72 ; 
his  philosophy,  72 : leading  doc- 
trines, 74;  cosmology,  75  ; his  re- 
jection of  Fate  and  Chance,  76 ; 
Plato’s  objection  to  him,  78  ; his 
notion  respecting  Intelligence,  80 ; 
mistakes  made  by  him,  inapplica- 
bility of  the  title  JSclectic  to  him,  82 ; 
admission  of  both  Sense  and  Kea- 
son  into  his  system,  83. 

Antisthenes,  his  life,  teachers,  sys- 
tem, 177  ; his  manners  and  gloomy 
temper,  school  founded  by  him, 178. 

Arabians,  two  great  epochs  in  the  in- 
tellectual development  of  the,  369  ; 
Arabian  philosophy,  361  ; Arabian 
philosophers,  their  familiarity  with 
Greek  writers,  362 ; obligations  of 
Europe  to,  370. 

Arcesilaus:  birth,  studies,  promotion 
to  the  academic  chair,  character, 
death,  294  ; his  doctrine  of  a acata- 
lepsy, 297. 

Archytas  and  Timjeus,  works  attrib- 
uted to  them,  spurious,  24. 

Aristippus,  founder  of  the  Cyrenaic 
school ; nis  acquaintance  with  Soc- 


792 


INDEX. 


rates,  173;  residence  at  Corinth; 
disposition  and  character,  return 
to  Cyrene,  174;  his  pliilosophy,  a 
precursor  of  Epicureanism,  its  re- 
lation to  Socrates,  175 ; his  doc- 
trine of  pleasure,  177. 

Aristotle  : birth,  origin,  241  ; educa- 
tion, visit  to  Athens,  242  ; writes 
\\\s  History  nf  AnimaU,  243;  founds 
the  school  of  the  Peripatetics,  in- 
fluence of  his  writings,  244  ; nature 
of  his  method,  246  ; difference  be- 
tween him  and  Plato,  247  ; his  doc- 
trine of  induction,  249 ; commence- 
ment of  positive  science  in  Aris- 
totle’s method,  250  ; difference  be- 
tween the  Aristotelian  method  and 
the  method  of  positive  science,  250 ; 
difference  between  Aristotle’s  and 
Plato’s  use  of  the  term  dialectics, 
252 ; his  categories,  255  ; object  of 
his  logic,  256  ; his  propositions, 
257  ; his  definition  of  the  syllo- 
gism, 259  ; his  metaphysics,  261  ; 
errors  in  his  theory,  262  ; his  va- 
rious doctrines,  263 ; compared 
with  Plato,  his  versatile  intellect, 
264 ; results  of  his  labors,  266  ; 
his  long  authority  explained,  372; 
his  influence  on  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, 378. 

Authority  and  Liberty,  principles 
of,  371. 

flacon,  Francis : birth,  ancestry,  edu- 
cation, 398  ; visits  France,  kudies 
common  law,  distinguished  as  an 
orator,  399 ; sworn  a member  of  the 
Privy  Council,  appointed  keeper  of 
the  Great  Seal ; created  Baron  Ver- 
ulam,  accused  of  corruption,  400 ; 
impeached,  retires  from  public  life, 
401 ; his  death,  his  method,  402 ; 
his  four  classes  of  idols,  402  ; his 
de.9cription  of  induction,  404 ; his 
doctrine  illustrated,  405 ; his  Pre- 
rogative Instants,  406 ; distinguish- 
ing characteristic  of  his  philosophy, 
408  ; his  chief  merit,  409  ; division 
of  his  method  into  two  parts,  his 
Aphorisms,  410  ; positive  tendency 
of  his  speculations,  411  ; his  sepa- 
ration of  science  from  theology  il- 
lustrated, 412;  his  declaration  re- 
specting physios,  413  ; his  testimo- 
nies to  the  genius  and  errors  of  the 
ancients,  415 ; the  groundwork  of 
his  Organum,  416 ; his  constant 
aim,  417 ; inquiry  into  the  ori- 
ginality and  usefulness  of  his 
method,  objections  brought  against 


it  by  Le  Maistre  and  Macaulay  re- 
futed, 420^34. 

Baillarger,  M.,  his  method  for  meas- 
uring the  surfaces  of  the  brain,  766. 

Belief  and  perception,  dilference  be- 
tween, 585. 

Berkeley,  George : birth,  education, 
publication  of  his  writings,  visit  to 
London,  reception  there,  character, 
548 ; career,  travels,  preferment, 
visit  to  America,  return  to  Eng-_ 
land,  made  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  re-' 
mova.  to  O.xford,  death,  his  ideal- 
ism, 549 ; misunderstanding  of 
him  by  his  critics,  his  rejection  of 
the  noumenon  explained,  550 ; ac- 
cusation brought  against  him  re- 
futed, doctrine  of  the  reality  of 
things  maintained  by  him,  552 ; 
his  definition  of  substance,  553;  his 
starting-point,  556  ; his  theory  of 
the  origin  of  knowledge,  557  ; ker- 
nel of  his  system,  558  ; his  identi- 
fication of  the  object  with  sensa- 
tion, 559  ; fundamental  principle 
of  Ids  theory,  560;  his  refutation 
of  realism,  561 ; his  triumph  over 
dualism,  563  ; liis  theory  irrefuta- 
ble, 564 ; his  main  position  incon- 
trovertible, 566  ; causes  of  his  fail- 
ure, results  of  his  labors,  569. 

Brain,  function  of  the,  597  ; discrep- 
ancies in  the  size  of  the,  767. 

Bruno,  Giordano,  his  martyrdom, 
373;  rarity  of  his  works,  374;  his 
birth  and  disposition,  character, 
adopts  the  Dominican  frock,  375  ; 
his  doubts  on  transubstantiation 
and  respecting  Aristotle,  his  ad- 
venturous course,  376  ; his  perse- 
cutions, 377  ; his  teachers,  379  ; 
his  position  among  teachers,  his 
travels  and  adventures,  379-384 ; 
flight  to  'Venice,  thrown  into  pris- 
on, 385 ; sent  to  Rome,  excommuni- 
cated and  perishes  at  the  stake, 
386  ; historical  value  of  his  system, 
character  of  his  writings,  388  ; his 
anticipation  of  Spinoza  and  Des- 
cartes, impulse  given  by  him  to  the 
study  of  Nature,  390  ; his  creed, 
391 ; grandeur  of  his  system,  392  ; 
his  comedy,  393  ; his  various  writ- 
ings, 394-397. 

Cabanis,  Pierre  Jean  Georges,  740 ; 
physiological  method  to  be  sought 
m him,  742  ; birth,  profession,  res- 
idence at  Auteuil,  death,  his  work 
entitled  Rapports  en  Physique,  hia 
position  in  toe  history  of  philoso 


INDEX. 


793 


phy,  742  ; his  recognition  of  the 
unity  of  life  and  mind,  743 ; his 
predecessors,  his  physiological  psy- 
chology, 744;  results  of  his  survey 
of  the  human  organism,  746 ; object 
of  his  treatise,  746  ; popularity  and 
influence  of  his  work,  747. 

Oariieades,  birth,  teachers,  promo- 
tion to  the  academic  chair,  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Eome,  295 ; influ- 
ence, return  to  Athens,  death,  296. 

Cartesian  doctrine,  454. 

Causation,  defined,  586  ; weakness  of 
the  theory  of,  e.vposed,  662  ; in- 
stinctive belief  in  causation  proved 
to  be  false,  666  ; belief  in  causa- 
tion, on  what  founded,  668 ; uni- 
versal causation,  source  of  the  be- 
lief in,  664 ; reflection  required  for 
the  belief  in,  not  an  instinct,  666. 

Century,  the  si.vteenth,  its  place  in 
history,  377. 

Certainty,  how  attainable,  xxxiv. 

Christology,  Hegelian,  Spinoza’s  an- 
ticipation of,  466. 

Collard,  Eoyer,  772. 

Common  sense  philosophy,  failure  of 
and  benefits  conferred  by,  629. 

Comte,  Auguste  : historical  position, 
nature  of  his  method,  776 ; his 
Cours  de  Philosophie  Positive,  'I’ll ; 
his  inauguration  of  a philosophy  of 
science,  778  ; his  three  initial  con- 
ceptions, 779 ; his  fundamental  .aw 
of  evolution,  780 ; nature  of,  781 ; 
its  three  stages  not  strictly  chrono- 
logical, 782 ; his  classification  of  the 
fundamental  sciences,  785 ; his  in- 
fluence, 787. 

Condillac,  Etienne  de,  birth,  career, 
publication  of  his  essay,  appointed 
tutor  to  the  Prince  of  Parma,  made 
a member  of  the  French  Academy, 
publication  of  his  Logie,  death,  589  ; 
the  representative  of  Locke  in 
France,  object  of  his  TraiU  des  Sen- 
sations, peculiarity  of  his  system, 
590  ; his  misconception  of  Locke, 
his  doctrine  refuted,  591 ; his  error 
respecting  the  mental  faculties, 
592  ; his  theory  of  sensations,  593  ; 
his  definition  of  ideas,  594 ; the 
systematic  error  of  his  system,  597  ; 
examined  into,  598,  599  ; destruc- 
tion of  the  basis  of  his  system,  his 
discovery  tliat  our  faculties  are  not 
innate  or  even  connate,  600 ; merits 
of  his  works  and  style,  his  want  of 
■1  true  psychological  method,  602. 

0-  nseiousness,  limitation  of,  451. 

0(  ntinuity,  law  of,  405. 


Cousin,  Victor,  772. 

Cranioscopy,  755-759;  difficulties  be- 
setting, 760. 

Cyrenaic  school,  the,  173. 

Cynic  school,  the,  177  ; effect  created 
by  the  school  in  Athens,  * great 
qualities  of  its  disciples,  181 ; causes 
of  the  want  of  respect  felt  ffir  them, 
182. 

Dareste,  Camille,  his  researches  into 
the  convolutions  of  the  brain,  766. 

Darwin,  Erasmus : birth,  studies, 
profession,  his  poem  of  the  Botanie 
Garden,  his  Zoonomia,  his  theory 
the  same  as  Hartley’s,  his  defini- 
tion of  the  word  idea,  609  ; his 
conception  of  psychology,  610  ; hi“ 
theory  of  vibrations,  explanation  of 
perception,  615;  theory  of  beauty, 
616. 

Definitions,  employment  of,  by  Soc- 
rates, 153 ; importance  of,  in  the 
Socratic  method,  156  ; in  what  they 
consist,  253. 

Democritus,  the  laughing  philoso- 
pher: birth,  94;  character,  station, 
career,  anecdotes  respecting,  ob- 
scurity of  his  philosophy,  difficulty 
of  assigning  him  a position,  94 ; 
differences  between  him  and  other 
schools,  nature  of  his  doctrine  and 
teaching,  his  identification  of  sensa- 
tion and  thought,  95 ; his  doctrine 
of  reflection,  96  ; his  hypothesis  to 
explain  perception,  98 ; his  doctrine 
of  atomism,  99;  superiority  of  his 
system,  100. 

Descartes,  Eenc : birth,  parentage, 
precocity,  studies,  435 ; travels, 
pursuits,  436  ; conceives  the  design 
of  a reformation  in  philosophy, 
publication  of  his  Discourse  on 
Method,  sensation  produced  by  it, 
visit  to  Stockholm,  death,  437  ; 
character,  438 ; causes  which  led 
him  to  the  invention  of  his  method, 
439 ; logical  imperfection  of  his 
Cogito,  ergo  Sum,  440 ; vital  portion 
of  his  system,  441 ; psychological 
portion,  442 ; mathematical  or  de- 
ductive portion,  443;  differences 
and  resemblances  between  him  and 
Bacon,  nature  and  tendency  of  his 
method,  445 ; applications  of  h:s 
method,  446  ; weakness  of  his  at- 
tempts to  demonstrate  the  exist- 
ence of  God,  447  ; physical  specu- 
lations, 448 ; position,  450 ; his 
criterion  examined,  fallacy  of  his 
system,  451 ; fallacy  of  his  notion 


794 


INDEX. 


that  the  mind  is  a passive  recipient, 
4.'i3 ; his  doctrine  respecting  innate 
ideas,  454. 

Dialectics,  Zeno  of  Elea,  tlie  inventor 
of,  57  ; creation  of,  to  what  owing, 

62.’ 

Diogenes  of  Apollonia : birth,  tenets, 
7;  theory  of  life,  8;  the  last  ancient 
philosopher  attached  to  the  physi- 
cal method,  9. 

Diogenes  of  Sinope : birth,  parent- 
age, flight  to  Athens,  poverty,  life, 
179;  his  ostentation,  182;  charac- 
teristics, death,  184. 

Eclecticism,  769  ; origin  and  growth 
of,  771 ; definition  of,  773  ; crite- 
rium,  necessity  of  a,  774  ; want  of 
a criterium  in  the  system,  775 ; 
valuable  as  a subsidiary  process, 
776. 

Ecstasy,  faculty  of,  place  it  holds  in 
Neo-Platonism,  318. 

Ego,  the  activity  and  passivity  of  the, 
696. 

Eleatics,  the,  37. 

Empedocles,  contrary  opinions  as  to 
the  place  occupied  by  him,  83 ; in- 
terpretation of  the  disputed  pas- 
sage in  Aristotle  respecting,  84  ; 
Dirth,  station,  espousal  of  the  dem- 
ocratic party,  travels,  character, 
and  anecdotes  respecting  him,  86  ; 
uncertainty  as  to  his  teachers  and 
his  writings,  88  ; diversity  of  opin- 
ion with  respect  to  his  position  sig- 
nificant, his  relation  to  the  Eleatic 
school,  his  resemblance  to  Zenoph- 
anes,  88;  his  attempts  to  prove  the 
existence  of  Reason  and  of  the  Di- 
vine Nature,  90 ; his  attacks  on  an- 
thropomorphism, 90 ; his  relation 
to  the  Pythagorean  school,  91 ; ad- 
vance made  by  him  on  Anaxago- 
ras’s doctrine,  92  ; his  conception 
oi  God,  93. 

Epicureans,  the,  274. 

Epicurus:  birth,  origin,  and  educa- 
tion, 274;  ids  travels,  opening  of 
his  school  in  the  garden,  his  char- 
acter, accusations  brought  against 
him  refuted,  misrepresentations  of 
bis  doctrine,  275;  dislike  fell  for 
him  by  the  Stoics,  276;  his  doc- 
trine and  system,  277,  278;  his 
ethical  doctrine,  psychology  and 
physics,  279  ; his  doctrine  review- 
ed, 2S0. 

Epochs  in  Philosophy  : first  epoch — 
speculations  on  the  nature  of  the 
universe,  1 : second  epoch — specu- 


lations on  the  creation  of  the  uni 
verse  and  the  origin  of  knowledge, 
63 ; third  epoch — intellectual  crisis, 
101 ; fourth  epoch — a new  era 
opened,  122  ; fifth  epoch — partial 
adoption  of  the  Socratic  method, 
169  ; sixth  epoch — complete  adop- 
tion of  the  yooratic  method,  186  ; 
seventh  epoch — philosophy  again 

■ reduced  to  a system,  241 ; eighth 
epoch — second  crisis  of  Greek  phi- 
losophy, 268 ; ninth  epoch — phi- 
losophy allies  itself  with  faith,  307  ; 
conclusion  of  ancient  philosophy, 
336.  Transition  period,  343.  First 
epoch,  foundation  of  the  inductive 
method,  398  ; second  epoch — foun- 
dation of  the  deductive  method, 
435;  third  epoch — philosophy  re- 
duced to  a question  of  psychology, 
495 ; fourth  epoch — the  subjective 
nature  of  knowledge  leads  to  ideal- 
ism, 548  ; fifth  epoch — the  argu- 
ments of  idealism  carried  out  into 
skepticism,  570  ; sixth  epoch — the 
origin  of  knowledge  referred  to 
sensation,  589 ; seventh  epoch — 
second  crisis,  618  ; eighth  epoch — 
recurrence  to  the  fundamental 
question  respecting  the  origin  of 
knowledge,  630  ; ninth  epoch — on- 
tology reasserts  its  claim,  675  ; 
tenth  epoch — psychology  seeking 
its  basis  in  physiology,  740 ; elev- 
enth epoch — philosophy  finally  re- 
linquishing its  place  in  favor  of 
positive  science,  769. 

Euclid  of  Megara ; birth,  delight  in 
listening  to  Socrates,  170;  his  re- 
semblance to  the  Eleatics,  his  dia- 
lectics, 172. 

E.xistence,  belief  in,  583. 

Experience,  dispute  concerning,  546  ; 
the  foundation  of  our  belief  in 
causality,  663. 

Experimentum  crucis,  value  of  the, 
408. 

Feathers,  the  Christian,  343. 

Fichte,  Johann  Gottlieb  : birth,  pre- 
cociousness,  675 ; anecdotes  of,  676, 
677;  education,  678 ; life  at  Schulp- 
forte,  679  ; becomes  a candidatui 
theologia.,  residence  in  Switzerland, 
acquaintance  with  Kant’s  writ- 
ings, 681 ; writes  an  abridgment  of 
Kant’s  Kritik,  683;  extracts  from 
his  journal,  made  professor  of  phi- 
losophy at  Jena,  684;  residence  at 
Berlin,  685 ; death,  character,  his- 
torical position,  686  ; his  opinions, 


INDEX. 


795 


hia  definition  of  faith,  and  place 
occupied  by  it  in  his  system,  688  ; 
basis  of  his  system,  69u ; ids  doc- 
trine of  the  Ego  and  Non-Ego, 
691 ; his  doctrine  of  the  identity 
of  Subject  and  Object,  692 ; his 
doctrine  of  the  Will,  693  ; his 
idealism,  his  distinction  between 
the  Ego  and  Non-Ego,  694;  differ- 
ence between  him  and  Berkeley, 
698  ; application  of  his  idealism, 
his  doctrine  of  the  aim  of  man’s 
existence,  699  ; his  definition  of 
Duty,  his  doctrine  of  the  condition 
of  existence  and  the  freedom  of  the 
Ego,  700;  his  opinions  respecting 
God,  701;  his  philosophy  of  his- 
tory, 702.  ■ 

Gall,  Francis  Joseph : birth,  atten- 
tion early  called  to  phrenology, 
lectures  at  Vienna,  749;  Gall  and 
Spurzheim  visit  Paris,  quarrel  be- 
tween them,  his  historical  position, 
services  rendered  by  him  to  phys- 
iology and  psychplogy,  752;  his 
infiuence,  753 ; his  systematization 
of  the  affective  faculties,  755  ; his 
anatomy  of  the  nervous  system, 
761 ; consequence  of  the  abandon- 
ment of  Gall’s  method,  763;  his 
predecessors,  necessary  rejection 
of  his  system,  764. 

German  Pantheists,  706. 

Greek  ethics,  their  range,  337. 

Greek  inquiry,  its  results,  337. 

Greek  philosophy,  nature  of  the  sec- 
ond crisis  of,  306. 

Greek  speculation,  conclusions  ar- 
rived at  after  reviewing  the  history 
of,  327. 

Hartiey,  David : birth,  parentage, 
studies,  profession,  603  ; publica- 
tion of  his  Treatise,  misapprehen- 
sion of  him  by  Dr.  Parr,  death, 
604  ; character,  his  system,  hia 
definition  of  man,  605 ; his  opinions 
respecting  mind  and  matter,  606 ; 
his  theory  of  vibrations,  applica- 
tion of  the  doctrine  of  association, 
607  ; position  occupied  by  him,  608. 

Hegel,  George  Frederick  William, 
birth,  education,  residence  at  Tu- 
bingen, intimacy  with  Scheliing, 
715;  residence  at  Jena,  publica- 
tion of  his  dissjrtation  I)e  Orbitis 
and  his  essay  Grlanben  und  Wissen, 
intimacy  with  Goethe  and  Schiller, 
lectures  at  Jena,  publishes  his 
Phdnomenologie,  716 ; leaves  Jena 


for  Bamberg  and  Nurnbeig,  mar- 
riage, residence  at  Heidelberg,  pub- 
lishes his  Encyclopddie,  made  pro- 
fessor at  Berlin,  death,  his  method, 
teaching,  717 ; Ids  position,  inven- 
tion of  a new  method,  718;  nature 
of  his  method,  719 ; results  of  his 
method,  720;  his  doctrine  respect- 
ing contraries,  721 ; process  of  his 
law  respecting  contraries,  722 ; his 
notion  of  God,  his  method,  whith- 
er it  led  him,  723 ; similarity  to 
Hume,  724;  estimate  of  his  phi- 
losophy by  his  disciples,  725  ; his 
greatness,  uselessness  and  perni- 
ciousness of  his  system,  726 ; his 
logic,  in  what  it  consists,  first  prop- 
osition in  his  logic,  how  treated  by 
him,  727,  730  ; his  system,  why 
overrated,  731 ; application  of  his 
method,  732;  his  Philosophy  of 
Nature,  733;  his  Philosophy  of  In- 
telligence, his  Lectures  on  History, 
734;  Philosophy  of  Religion^  736; 
applicability  of  his  method  to  all 
subjects,  737 ; analysis  of  his  History 
of  Philosophy,  738 ; editions  and 
abridgments  of  his  works,  739. 

Heloise,  her  history,  350-355. 

Heraclitus,  the  crying  philosopher, 
his  origin,  birth,  and  character, 
64;  his  philosophy,  tendency  of 
his  doctrines,  contradiction'  be- 
tween him  and  Xenophanes,  65 ; 
a materialist,  66 ; hia  doctrine  a 
modification  of  the  Ionian  system, 
69  ; his  explanation  of  phenomena, 
70;  his  office  negative,  70. 

History,  two  principal  epochs  in,  703. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  depreciation  of, 
his  errors,  writings,  495  ; his  style 
and  matter,  496 ; his  position  in 
the  history  of  philosophy ; 497 ; 
the  precursor  of  the  eighteenth 
century-school  of  psychology,  his 
discovery  respecting  our  sensa- 
tions, 498 ; his  definition  of  imagi- 
nation, 500  ; definition  of  memory, 
501 ; association  of  ideas  demon- 
strated by  him,  502 ; his  psychol- 
ogy, 504 ; definition  of  understand- 
ing, 505. 

Humanity,  five  periods  in  the  life  of, 
704. 

Hume,  David,  birth,  parentage,  visit 
to  France,  570;  publication  of  his 
treatise  on  Human  Nature,  and  his 
Essays,  travels,  publication  of  hia 
Political  Discourses  and  his  In- 
quiry, appointed  librarian  to  the 
Faculty  of  Advocates,  publication 


796 


INDEX. 


of  his  Ilistonj  of  England,  his 
death  and  cliaractor,  571 ; his  skep- 
ticism, liis  influouco  on  specula- 
tion, his  theory  respecting  matter 
and  mind,  572;  unreasonableness 
of  the  objections  to  l.im,  573  ; his 
theory  of  the  source  of  our  reason- 
ing, 574;  charges  brought  against 
him  refuted,  575;  nature  of  his 
mission,  576  ; his  skepticism,  na- 
ture of,  577 ; his  theory  of  causa- 
tion, 578  ; source  of  the  opposition 
to  it,  579,  580  ; incompetency  of 
his  explanation  of  our  belief  in 
causation,  581. 

Idealism,  unsatisfactory  nature  of, 
569  ; idealistic  arguments  answer- 
ed, 566  ; errors  and  truths  in  the 
system,  568. 

Idea,  use  of  the  word,  558. 

Ideas,  innate,  doctrine  of,  antici- 
pated by  Parmenides,  50 ; ideas, 
innate,  453;  inquiry  into  the  ori- 
gin of,  by  Locke,  518;  theory  of 
fundamental  ideas,  583. 

Induction  and  Syllogism,  distinction 
between,  258;  nature  of  induction, 
404;  how  to  be  conducted,  405; 
co-ordination  of  its  elements  into 
a compact  body  of  doctrine,  409 ; 
difference  between  simple-incau- 
tious, and  cautious-methodical, 
423 ; a graduated  and  successive, 
insisted  upon,  426  ; ordinary  con- 
fused with  scientific,  427 ; induc- 
tive method  as  distinguished  from 
induction,  inductive  rules',  im- 
portance of,  overrated  by  Bacon, 
428. 

Intellectual  operations  explained, 
xxix. 

Intuitional  reason,  assumption  re- 
specting, XXV. 

Ionian  school,  distinctive  character- 
istics of,  2. 

Jouflfroy,  Thomas,  772. 

Kant,  birth,  parentage,  education, 
ursuits,  character,  life  at  Konigs- 
erg,  630;  publication  of  his  Ori- 
tique  of  Pare  Reason,  631 ; death, 
relation  to  Swedenborg,  632  ; his- 
torical position,  clearness  of  his 
system,  633  ; object  he  had  in 
view,  634;  his  inquiry  into  the  na- 
ture of  experience,  his  criticism  of 
the  operation  of  the  mind,  problem 
he  set  himself  to  solve,  his  concep- 
tion of  a purely  critical  philosophy. 


635;  his  theory  of  knowledge,  686; 
his  theory  of  the  purpose  of  criti- 
cism, ^ 637  ; his  answer  to  the 
skeptic  and  dogmatist,  639  ; dif- 
ference between  him  and  Hume, 
his  theory  of  the  veracity  of  con- 
sciousness, 640;  leading  points  of 
his  analysis  of  the  mind,  his  divi- 
sion of  judgments  into  analytic 
aiid  synthetic,  641 ; his  theory  that 
mind  does  add  something  to  sense- 
experience,  642 ; his  psychology, 
object  of  his  Critique,  644 ; his  in- 
quiry into  the  objective  reality  of 
space  and  time,  646 ; his  analy&is 
of  the  forms  of  the  understanding, 
647 ; his  Categories,  his  inquiry 
into  the  pure  forms  of  reason,  648 ; 
his  theory  of  the  office  of  reason, 
his  theory  of  the  three  pure  forms 
of  reason,  649 ; consequences  of 
his  psychology,  650 ; his  theory  of 
an  external  world,  651 ; his  theory 
of  the  constitution  of  knowledge, 
his  assumption  of  the  impo.ssibility 
of  ontology  as  a science,  652  ; re- 
sults of  his  analysis,  653  ; his 
theory  of  moral  certitude,  of  the 
freedom  of  the  will,  654;  funda- 
mental principles,  examination  of, 
655 ; vital  point  in  his  system, 
656  ; his  theory  of  causation  and 
doctrine  of  necessary  truths,  657- 

659  ; his  distinction  between  a 
pure  and  an  empirical  cognition, 

660  ; his  views  on  causation  re- 
stated by  Whewell,  661-664  ; erroi 
in  his  theory  of  causation,  665-667 ; 
latest  development  of  his  doctrine, 
668;  his  doctrine  of  fundamental 
ideas,  669  ; his  notion  of  progres- 
sive intuition,  670-673;  result  of 
his  system,  674. 

Leibnitz : his  arguments  against 

Locke,  reputation  as  a philosopher 
and  mathematician,  541 ; influence 
of  the  ancients  over  him,  542;  his 
arguments  respecting  universality 
and  necessity,  his  doctrine  of  ne- 
cessary truths,  543;  real  force  of 
his  theory,  545. 

Locke,  John  : birth,  parentage,  edu- 
cation, life  at  Oxford,  contempt  for 
university  studies,  506 ; his  pro- 
ficiency in  medicine,  turns  his  at- 
tention tc  polities,  travels,  plans 
his  Essay,  507  ; returns  to  Oxford, 
is  deprived  of  his  studentship, 
goes  to  the  Hague,  publication  ol 
his  letter  on  Toleration,  returns  to 


INDEX. 


797 


England,  publication  of  his  Essay, 
its  success,  opposition  excited,  ac- 
uaintance  with  Newton,  50S ; 
eath,  spirit  of  his  writings,  charges 
brought  against  him,  509 ; proof 
that  he  did  not  borrow  from 
Hobbes,  510,  511 ; his  good  quali- 
ties and  originalitj-,  512 ; his  esti- 
mate of  the  value  of  hypothesis, 
his  readiness  to  change  his  opin- 
ions, 513 ; characteristics  of  his 
Essay,  514 ; his  method,  515 ; the 
founder  of  modern  psyohclogy, 
516 ; object  he  had  in  view,  517 ; 
plan  laid  down  by  him  in  the  con- 
Quct  of  his  inquiry,  518 ; his  posi- 
tivism, 519 ; his  theory  of  the  origin 
of  our  ideas,  521 ; and  of  the  origin 
of  our  knowledge,  523 ; his  defini- 
tion of  reflection  and  sensation, 
525 ; elements  of  idealism  and 
skepticism  in  his  system,  527 ; his 
theory  of  the  primary  and  second- 
ary qualities  of  bodies,  528 ; his 
anticipation  of  the  doctrine  of  cau- 
sation, 529  ; his  deflnition  of  knowl- 
edge, his  doctrine  respecting  sim- 
ple and  complex  ideas,  530 ; his 
denunciation  of  skepticism,  532 ; 
object  of  his  essay,  533 ; his  critics, 
533-539  ; careful  study  of  him  rec- 
ommended, 540. 

Logic,  definition  of,  252 ; object  of 
Aristotle’s  logic,  256 ; bad  logic  de- 
fined, 585. 

Macaulay,  his  argument  against  the 
originality  and  usefulness  of  Ba- 
con’s method  refuted,  420-434. 

Materialism,  principle  of,  stated,  493. 

Mathematicians,  the,  10 ; collision  be- 
tween the  mathematical  and  physi- 
cal systems,  62. 

Megaric  school,  the,  169. 

Metaphysics,  science  of,  denied  by 
tlie  Sophists,  121 ; three  questions 
propounded  by  metaphysics,  an- 
swered by  the  Alexandrian  school, 
328 ; metaphysical  and  scientific 
methods,  germinal  difference  be- 
tween, xxii ; irrationality  of  spec- 
ulation or  nictaphysics,  xxxi. 

Method,  estimate  of,  by  Socrates, 
158 ; peculiarities  of  a philosophi- 
cal method,  Soeratic  method,  its 
vagueness,  169 ; Aristotle’s  method, 
246  ; spirit  of  Bacon’s  method,  408 ; 
method  of  verification,  410 ; useful- 
ness of  Bacon’s  method,  427 ; radi- 
cal defect  of  Bacon’s  method,  429  ; 
Bacon’s  method  only  indirectly  use- 
63 


ful,  432 ; Bacon’s  method  latent  in 
the  spirit  of  the  age,  no  evidence 
against  his  originality,  433 ; full  es- 
tablishment of  the  deductive  meth- 
od, 444  ; Descartes’  method,  good- 
ness of,  examined,  449 ; Spinoza’s 
method,  novelty  of,  472;  Locke’s 
method,  515 ; Hegel’s  method,  717  ; 
the  history  of  the  rise  of  the  psy- 
chological method,  740 ; the  posi- 
tive method,  776;  value  of  the 
positive  method,  784;  illustrations 
of  the  superiority  of  the  positive 
method,  785;  the  birth  of  the  new 
method,  xfi. 

Mill,  John,  his  strictures  on  the  dog- 
ma cessante  causa  cessat  et  effectus, 
537. 

Mysticism,  infusion  of,  into  philoso- 
phy, 331. 

Neo-Platonism,  antagonism  between 
it  and  Christianity,  causes  of  its 
failure,  314;  Neo-Platonic  theory 
of  God,  322;  Neo-Platonic  doctrine 
of  emanation,  Neo-Platonic  theory 
of  the  origin  of  the  world,  323  ; 
their  doctrine  respecting  God,  329. 

Nominalism,  dispute  concerning,  ,346. 

Object,  the,  and  sensation,  want  of 
correspondence  between,  303, 

Ontological  speculations,  basis  of  all 
modern,  455. 

Parmenides,  his  birth,  48  ; wealth  and 
devotion  to  study,  his  politics,  char- 
acteristics of  his  philosophy,  49  ; 
his  doctrine  respecting  the  duality 
of  thought,  50 ; hij  antithesis  to 
idla  always  ulans,  53 ; central  point 
in  his  system,  his  notion  on  the 
science  of  Being,  53  ; his  doctrine 
of  the  identity  of  thought  and  ex- 
istence, 54;  his  physical  specula- 
tions, ideal  element  introduced  in- 
to his  speculations,  skeptical  tend- 
ency of  his  doctrines,  55. 

Perception  and  reasoning,  difference 
between,  xxv  ; perception  and  sen- 
sation, difference  between,  xxvi; 
nature  of  perception  defined,  301 ; 
process  of,  611. 

Philo:  birth,  genius,  education,  his 
teachers,  Greek  and  Oriental  ele- 
ments of  his  mind,  310  ; agreement 
and  difference  between  him  and 
Plato,  311 ; his  theology,  312. 

Philosophy,  distinction  between  it 
and  science,  present  decadence  of, 
circular  movement  of,  xi ; spectacle 


798 


INDEX. 


presented  by  the  history  of,  xii ; 
delinition  of,  ancient  pliilosophy  es- 
sentially metaphysical,  xiii;  supe- 
riority of  science  to,  xiv ; charac- 
teristics of,  XV ; difference  between 
and  science  illustrated,  xvi;  re- 
garded as  a system  of  credit,  xxii ; 
contrast  between  pliilosophy  and 
science,  xxii ; proved  to  be  impos- 
sible, XXX  ; the  initiator  of  science, 
xxxi ; purpose  of  the  author  in 
writing  the  liistory  of,  xxxi ; mor- 
al pliilosophy  created  by  Socrates, 
266 ; conclusion  of  ancient  philoso- 
phy, 336 ; influence  of,  337  ; Chris- 
tian philosophy  a misnomer,  phi- 
losophy, in  what  it  consists,  338; 
modern  philosophy,  commence- 
ment of,  mediseval  philosophy,  343 ; 
influence  of  Aristotle  over  mediae- 
val philosophy,  345 ; emancipation 
of  philosophy,  370;  fundamental 
question  of  modern,  455  ; first  cri- 
sis in  modern  philosophy,  493 ; re- 
action against  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury philosophy,  769-771;  office  of 
positive  philosophy,  779 ; reduc- 
tion of  positive  philosophy  into  five 
fundamental  sciences,  787 ; two 
characteristics  of  modern  philoso- 
phy, present  condition  of,  impos- 
sibility of  a,  788. 

Phenomena,  order  of  their  depend- 
ence, 786. 

Phrenology,  rise  of,  748 ; changes 
made  in  the  localization  of  the  or- 
gans, 750;  two  distinct  aspects  of, 
755;  difficulties  of,  759 ; proper  ob- 
ject of,  760;  assumptions  of,  761; 
initial  question  affecting,  765;  im- 
ortant  poiht  it  has  to  determine, 
66  ; chaotic  aspect  of,  768. 

Physics,  organic  and  inorganic,  treat- 
ed by  the  positive  method,  786. 

Physicists,  the,  1. 

Plato ; interest  felt  in  him,  his  char- 
acter, nature  of  his  metaphysics, 
morals,  and  politics,  186 ; parent- 
age, birth,  and  education,  188;  his 
skepticism,  and  correction  of,  by 
Socrates,  his  travels,  189  ; his  lec- 
tures, 191 ; their  purely  argument- 
ative character,  visit  to  Sicily,  192; 
sold  as  a slave,  visit  to  Syracuse, 
death,  disposition,  193 ; character 
of  his  writings,  195  ; his  Dialogues 
and  Epistles^  various  of  them  spu- 
rious, 165,  166 ; his  opinions  illus- 
, trated  in  his  Dialogues,  197 ; design 
of  his  Dialogues,  his  dialectics,  199 ; 
attempts  to  classify  his  Dialogues, 


chronology  of,  201 ; necessity  for  a 
positive  arrangement  of  his  works, 
variations  in  his  opinions,  203,  204; 
new  classification  of  his  works  pro- 
posed, purpose  of  his  Dialogues, 
206  ; his  method,  nature  of  his  phi- 
losophy, 207  ; nature  of  his  method, 
209  ; his  conception  of  philosophy 
as  dialectics,  his  great  dogma,  210 ; 
his  theory  of  general  terms,  212; 
his  doctrine  of  ideas,  214r-216  ; his 
psychology  illustrated,  216-220 ; his 
doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  221 ; his 
doctrine  of  recollection,  222 ; divi- 
sion of  his  philosophy  into  two 
branches,  223  ; passage  from  the 
Bepuhlic  illustrative  of  his  method, 
224;  his  doctrine  of  rational  and 
sensitive  souls,  his  system  a resume 
of  the  conflicting  tendencies  of  his 
age,  226  ; summary  of  his  dialectics, 
227 ; his  theology  and  cosmology, 
228  ; his  analogical  reasoning,  229  ; 
his  doctrine  of  evil,  231 ; doctrine 
of  metempsychosis  as  applied  by 
him,  232;  his  view  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  good,  233 ; his  ethics,  236 ; 
contradictions  in  his  ethical  opin- 
ions, his  Bepuhlto,  236-240. 

Platonic  philosophy,  central  error  of, 
154. 

Platonism,  its  union  with  Oriental 
mysticism,  812. 

Plotinus,  314;  his  agreement  with 
Plato,  316 ; his  resemblance  to  Ger- 
man metaphysicians,  324 ; spirit  of, 
revived  by  Sclielling,  710. 

Position  of  the  Socratic  method  in 
the  history  of  speculation,  266. 

Process,  the  exclusive,  necessity  of, 
insisted  on,  406. 

Proolus:  birth,  visit  to  Alexandria 
and  Athens,  his  theological  tend- 
ency, 332 ; his  estimate  of  faith,  his 
method,  333 ; his  assumption  re- 
specting mathematics,  334 ; his  as- 
sertion respecting  the  mind,  835; 
the  last  of  tlie  ancient  philosophers, 
336. 

Prophetism,  368. 

Protagoras,  the  first  avowed  Sophist, 
his  studies,  resemblance  between 
him  and  Heraclitus,  his  doctrine  of 
sensation,  116 ; a teacher  of  moral- 
ity, 119. 

Psychology,  lesson  taught  by,  xxix ; 
its  assumption  of  the  place  of  on- 
tology, 493;  reason  of  the  im- 
portance it  has  assumed,  494; 
psychological  method,  history  of 
the,  740;  necessity  of  its  estab- 


INDEX. 


799 


lishment  on  a physiological  basis, 
768. 

Pyrrho,  founder  of  the  skeptical  phi- 
losophy, contrast  between  him  and 
Socrates,  268 ; his  doctrine,  irre- 
coverability  of,  269. 

Pythagoras:  birth,  15;  one  of  the 
great  founders  of  mathematics,  fa- 
bles current  about  him,  16  ; proba- 
bility of  his  having  visited  Egypt, 
unlikelihood  of  his  having  been  in- 
structed by  Egyptian  priests,  17 ; 
invention  of  the  word  philosupher 
by  him,  18 ; its  interpretation,  his 
secret  society,  19 ; political  career 
20 ; residence  at  Croton,  difference 
between  him  and  his  predecessors, 
21 ; risings  against  him,  death,  22 ; 
musical  scale  invented  by  him,  his 
philosophy,  23 ; his  doctrines  a con- 
tinuation of  Anaximander’s,  uncer- 
tainty as  to  the  genuineness  of  the 
opinions  ascribed  to  him,  no  peculiar 
doctrines  attributed  to  him  oy  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  his  oral  teaching,  24  ; 
his  theory  of  numbers,  26 ; his  doc- 
trines contained  in  a few  mystical 
sentences,  30 ; his  opinions  on  sub- 
sidiary points,  his  doctrine  of  the 
transmigration  of souls,  31 ; his  doc- 
trines in  relation  to  the  preceding 
philosophy,  32 ; the  representative 
of  the  second  branch  of  Ionian  phi- 
losophy, 83. 

Pythagoreans,  celebrated,  Pythago- 
rean sehool,  its  method  and  ten- 
dency, why  called  the  mathemati- 
cal, 25 ; Pythagorean  system,  a 
verbal  quibble  at  the  foundation  of, 
27  ; Pythagorean  formula,  mistake 
as  to  its  meaning  by  Ritter  and 
others,  28;  Pythagorean  doctrine, 
38  ; translations  from  Aristotle’s 
Metaphysics  respecting,  34-36. 

Realism  and  Nominalism,  origin  of  the 
dispute  between,  211. 

Reasoning,  how  conducted  in  Bacon’s 
time,  425. 

Reformers,  sixteenth  century,  spirit 
eommon  to  the,  377. 

Reid,  Thomas ; birth,  education,  made 
Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  at 
Aberdeen,  publication  of  his  In- 
quiry into  the  Human  Mind  and  of 
his  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers, 
death,  his  philosophy,  618  ; his  mis- 
statement of  Locke,  619  ; his  refu- 
tation of  the  Ideal  theory,  620;  his 
attack  on  skepticism,  621 ; his  the- 
0^  of  perception  and  instinct,  623  ; 
difference  between  the  Ideal  hy- 


pothesis and  Reid’s  theory,  tho 
great  point  in  his  theory,  625 ; his 
theory  of  ideas  of  sensation,  627 ; 
difference  between  Reid  and  Berke- 
ley, his  mistake  respecting  the  ori- 
gin of  knowledge,  628. 

Reminiscence,  doctrine  of,  implied  in 
a passage  from  the  Phmdo,  220. 

Re^blic,  the,  of  Plato,  difficulty  of 
determining  its  date,  201. 

Revolution,  the  French,  and  material- 
ism, fancied  association  between, 
770. 

Rome  and  the  Eastern  schools  of  phi- 
losophy, xxxii ; Roman  philosophy, 
308. 

Sensation,  growth  of,  525 : impossi 
bility  of  displacing  by  an  idea,  596 ; 
distinction  between  sensation  and 
ideation,  597  ; sensation  independ- 
ent of  thought,  599 ; dependent  on 
the  sensational  centre,  613 ; visual 
sensation,  how  produced,  614. 

Sensation  school,  the,  589 ; sensation 
al  centres,  598. 

Skeptics,  mistakes  made  by  the  an- 
cient, nature  of  their  influence, 
271 ; main  position  of  skepticism, 
621 ; skepticism  not  refuted  by 
Reid’s  theory,  622. 

Schelling ; birth,  studies  at  Tubingen, 
friendship  with  Hegal,  residence  at 
Jena  and  Berlin,  death,  705;  his 
doctrines,  his  pantheistic  tendency, 
706 ; his  improvement  on  Fichte’s 
doctrine,  707 ; difference  between 
him  and  Fichte,  the  Ego  in  Sohel- 
ling’s  system,  709 ; function  of  rea- 
son in  his  system,  710  ; three  divi- 
sions in  his  system,  his  speculations 
on  Nature,  711 ; luminousness  of 
some  of  his  ideas,  712  ; his  opinion 
of  science,  results  of  his  specula- 
tions, 713;  similarity  and  difference 
between  him  and  Spinoza,  differ- 
ence between  their  methods,  714. 

Science,  linear  progress  of,  xi ; sci- 
ences, progressive  development  of, 
777  ; present  condition  of,  784. 

Scientifle  method,  its  superiority, 
xxii. 

Scholasticism,  343 ; manifestations  of 
the  philosophical  element  in,  844. 

Schoolmen,  the  error  committed  by, 
346. 

Scotch  philosophy,  failure  of,  629._ 

Socrates : his  opinions  respecting 
Anaxagoras,  78 ; his  life,  antagon- 
ism between  him  and  the  Sophists, 
his  mission,  122  ; treatment  W the 


800 


INDEX. 


Sophists,  effect  produced  by  him, 
his  personal  appearance,  123 ; his 
qualities,  125;  his  birth,  parents, 
education,  and  early  studies,  127 ; 
his  wife,  his  military  services,  128  ; 
anecdotes  respecting  him,  129  ; his 
public  career,  130 ; conduct  as  Epis- 
tates,  182;  mistaken  for  a Sophist, 
133 ; his  mode  of  disputation,  134 ; 
his  tastes  and  habits,  135 ; his  daily 
occupation,  186 ; his  enemies,  137 ; 
his  condemnation,  apology  for  the 
Athenians,  138 ; his  alleged  impiety, 
189  ; his  religious  opinions,  140;  his 
trial,  141  ; speech  made  by  him, 
142  ; his  behavior  in  the  prospect  of 
death,  143 ; impression  produced 
by  it  on  Phsedo,  144;  the  closing 
scene,  145 ; his  character,  147  ; his 

Ehilosophy,  new  method  invented 
y him,  148 ; his  use  of  the  terms 
genus  and  species,  149  ; assertion  re- 
specting his  anticipation  of  Bacon’s 
method,  differences  and  resem- 
blances between  him  and  Bacon, 
151 ; drift  of  his  questioning,  153  ; 
the  founder  of  a new  epoch,  155; 
his  opinion  of  physical  speculation, 
156 ; philosophic  basis  given  by  him 
to  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  160;  his  arguments  in  fa- 
vor of  a beneficent  Providence,  161- 
165 ; conjectures  respecting  his  de- 
mon, 166  ; his  statement  respecting 
the  Divine  Voice,  167 ; Socrates’  phi- 
losophical career  justified,  199;  sum- 
mary of  the  Socratic  movement, 
266  j benefit  conferred  by  the  So- 
cratie  epoch,  267, 
in/phog,  meaning  of  the  word,  19. 
Sophists,  the,  much  calumniated,  102; 
cause  of  the  dislike  felt  for  them  by 
Plato,  103  ; meaning  of  the  word, 
104 ; vagueness  of  the  term,  105 ; 
various  assertions  respecting  them 
proved  to  be  false,  106  ; their  teach- 
ing, 107 ; art  taught  by  them,  not 
reprehensible,  108  ; art  of  disputa- 
tion taught  by  them,  109  ; their  art 
compared  with  forensic  oratory, 
111;  their  popularity,  112;  estima- 
tion of  their  art  by  the  Greeks,  113  ; 
doctrines  taught  by  them  ethical, 
examination  of  their  doctrines,  114 ; 
difference  between  them  and  the 
Skeptics,  118 ; their  opinion  of  ora- 
tory, the  natural  production  of  the 
opinions  of  the  epoch,  120, 

S luflsm,  369. 

fc.ieculation,  tendency  of  early  philo- 
sophical, 3. 


Spinoza:  his  childhood,  456;  his  pa- 
rents, his  early  passion  for  study, 
his  doubts,  457 ; summoned  before 
the  Rabbins,  withdraws  from  the 
synagogue,  458  ; his  attempted  as- 
sassination, his  excommunication, 
459 ; his  subsequent  career,  his  love 
for  his  master’s  daughter,  460  ; his 
disappointment,  his  Latin  studies, 
461  ; leaves  Amsterdam  for  Ley- 
den, writes  his  abridgment  of  the 
Meditations  of  Descartes,  sensation 
produced  by  it,  his  residence  at  the 
Hague,  462 ; declines  the  chair  of 
philosophy  at  Heidelberg,  beauty 
of  his  course  of  life,  463  ; his  pov- 
erty, 464;  publication  ofhis  Tracta- 
tus  Theologico-Politicus,  465 ; state 
of  things  in  Holland  on  its  appear- 
ance, 466  ; his  character,  aniuse- 
ments,  death,  468  ; his  doctrine,  a 
logical  development  of  the  system 
of  Descartes,  469 ; his  doctrine  of 
Substance,  470 ; his  agreement  with 
Descartes,  471 ; novelty  ofhis  meth- 
od, his  Definitions,  472 ; his  Axioms, 
474 ; his  notions  on  cause  and 
effect,  475  ; his  Propositions  and 
Corollaries,  476-478  ; his  proof  ot 
the  existence  of  Substance,  his  the- 
ology, 480;  his  expo.sition  of  his 
doctrine  completed,  causes  why  it  is 
branded  as  atheistical,  481 ; his  doc- 
trine of  Final  Causes,  482;  his  de- 
monstration of  the  anthropomor- 
phic tendency  of  judging  infinite  by 
finite  wisdom,  484;  impression  left 
on  the  mind  by  his  theological  sys- 
tem, 485 ; initial  error  of  his  sys- 
tem, 486 ; whence  it  arises,  487 ; 
logical  perfection  of  his  system,  his 
criticism  of  Bacon,  490  ; justifica- 
tion of  his  employment  of  the  geo- 
metrical method,  491. 

Stoics,  the,  281  ; Stoical  doctrine, 
analogy  between  the  Stoics  and  the 
Scotch  philosophers,  their  ethical 
doctrine,  289  ; tendency  of  theii 
etliical  formula,  291 ; mistakes  made 
by  them,  merits  and  demerits  oi 
Stoicism,  292. 

Systems,,  errors  at  the  root  of  philo- 
sophical, 14. 

Table-turning,  xv 

Thales,  father  of  Greek  speculation, 
birth,  origin  of  his  activity  in  poli- 
tics, 1 ; a proficient  in  mathemati- 
cal knowledge,  2 ; his  attempt  to 
discover  the  beginning  of  things, 
8 ; his  philosophy  in  harmony  with 


INDEX. 


801 


ancient  opinions,  wrongly  accused 
of  atheism,  4;  his  speculaticns,  in- 
ductive in  their  nature,  14. 

Timseus  and  Archytas,  works  attrib- 
uted to  them,  spurious,  24. 

TimcBus,  Aristotle’s  comment  on  the, 

200. 

Truths,  necessary  and  contingent, 
671 ; nature  of  contingent  truths, 
673. 

Universal*,  importance  of  the  dispute 
concerning,  356. 

Van  Heusde’s  arrangement  of  Plato’s 
w’orks,  205. 

Verification  of  particulars,  the  distin- 
guishing characteristic  of  the  sci- 
entific method,  xxx. 

Verification,  graduated,  systematiza- 
tion of,  408. 

Villers,  Charles,  his  letter  to  Cuvier, 
750. 

Xenophanes : birth,  a cultivator  of 
elegi.ac  and  gnomic  poetry,  banish- 
ment, and  wanderings  as  a rhapso- 
dist,  poverty  and  fanaticism,  37 ; 
a monotheist,  88 ; his  doctrine  re- 
specting Truth,  disagreement  be- 
tween his  doctrines  and  those  of 
Pythagoras,  few  of  his  rhapsodies 
extant,  39 ; conclusions  arrived  at 
by  him,  41 ; the  head  of  the  Mono- 


theists and  Skeptics,  his  philoso- 
phy, attempted  solution  of  the  pro- 
blem of  existence,  42 ; explanation 
of  his  notion  respecting  God,  con- 
tradiction between  his  opinions,  43 ; 
his  pantheism,  his  monotheism  dif- 
ferent from  anthropomorphism,  a 
monotheist  only  in  contradiction  to 
his  polytheistical  contemporaries, 
44 ; nature  of  his  skepticism,  46 ; 
his  conceptions  of  the  Deity,  47 ; 
his  influence  on  the  progress  of 
speculation,  48. 

Zeno,  alias  Palamedes  of  Elea,  55; 
character,  political  activity,  cap- 
tured by  Nearchus,  56 ; death,  his 
philosophy,  the  inventor  of  dialec- 
tics, 57  ; the  first  prose  writer,  58 ; 
diflterence  between  him  and  Parme- 
nides, his  doctrine  of  one  existence 
and  many  appearances,  his  argu- 
ments respecting  motion,  59 ; his 
Achilles  puzzle,  60;  its  refutation, 
61 ; Zeno,  the  terminator  of  the 
second  great  line  of  independent 
inquiry,  62. 

Zeno,  the  Stoic : birth,  origin,  pur- 
suits, studies,  career,  281 ; founds 
a school,  his  character,  personal  ap- 
pearance, death,  282;  his  philoso- 
phy, psychology,  284;  bis  theory 
of  sensation,  286. 


WORKS  OF  HENRY  MAUDSLEY,  M.  D„ 

TELLOW  OP  THE  ROTAE  COLLEGE  OP  PHT9ICLANS  ; PROFESSOR  OF  MEDICAL 
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“These  studies,  when  handled  by  such  a master  as  Sir  John  Lubbock,  rise  far  above 
the  ordinary  dry  treatment  of  such  topics.  The  work  is  an  effort  made  to  discover  what 
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inhabitants  as  numerous  as  the  human  beings  living  in  London  and  Peking,  and  who  labor 
together  in  the  utmost  harmony  for  the  common  good.  That  there  are  remarkable  analo- 
gies between  societies  of  ants  and  human  beings  no  one  can  doubt.  If.'accordirg  to  Mr. 
Grote,  ‘positive  morality  under  some  form  or  other  has  existed  in  every  society  of  which 
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Date  Di?e 

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L.  B,  Gat.  No.  1137 

L671A  V.2  10298 


